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w It Can Be Told ! IF THE WINDSORS HAD COME TO HOLLYWOOD By Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jr. 
How Tyrone Power Won the Lonely Heart of Janet Gaynor 

ON HER WISJtfNG LIST . . . four essen- 

•form in that single thread 

Ture... fragrance Gemey. $5. 

GALA GIFTS . . . handbag har- 
mony of Cigarette Case, 
Double Vanity and Lipstick, 
$10. Swank Cigarette and 
Triple Vanity Case, only $5.50. 



Carlo or Mandalay, in Shanghai 
or Salzburg^. . on wishing lists the world 
around the loveliest women write . . . fra- 
grance Gemey! 

For fragrance Gemqy, young and fresh 
and spirited, is beloved of 75 lands. And 
today in America Richard Hudnj/r presents 
this perfume in tiny handbag/vials, in im- 
pressive dressing table flacons. . . presents 
it, too, as a single thread of fragrance 
spun through a galaxy of glamour-gifts. 

See these Christmas treasures in fra- 
grance Gemey a/your nearest perfume 
counter. . . begu/fing trifles in lipsticks and 
rouge pots, slpek compacts, personal en- 
chantments,/uxurious charm-chests. 

Choose/from them that gift-that-matters 
... an intimate gift, a gift with continental 
flair . ./in that favorite of five continents 
. . . fragrance Gemeyl 


New/York • Paris • London • Toronto • Buenos Aires 
Capetown • Shanghai 


as ship . . . eight 

personal luxurTeT> in Hie 

fragrance Gemey. $10. 

der, Rouge, Lips 
fragrance Gemey. $2.85. 



When a person coughs or sneezes on 
you, the air carries bacteria and de- 
posits them in your nose and throat. 
Prompt action with Listerine, which 
kills germs, may avert au oncoming 
cold. - 




Like wet feet, drafts are dangerous 
because they chill the body un- 
equally, weakening its resistance to 
germs. Avoid all drafts, and when you 
have been in one, gargle Listerine. 

Listerine kills germs associated 
with colds and sore throat 



Late-season football games are usu- 
ally followed by severe colds, health 
reports show. After attending one, 
it's a good idea to gargle Listerine 
when you reach home. 

Tests During 7 Years' Research Show 

Cold Prevention Results That Amaze 

Even Medical Men 

No remedy or treatment that we know of 
can show the brilliant clinical record in 
fighting colds that Listerine advances. 
Listerine offers you the possibility of get- 
ting off with light colds this year, or no 
colds at all. It is the new therapy that 

Tests made during 7 years of research 
showed this: 

That those who gargled Listerine Anti- 
septic twice a day had fewer colds, milder 
colds, and colds of shorter duration than non- 
users. More important still— colds of Lis- 
terine users reached the dreaded danger 
zone of the chest less frequently than colds 
of non-users. 

Why such results, that impress even 
medical men? Why is Listerine preferred 
to drastic purgatives that may weaken 
the system, vaccines that sometimes up- 
set the patient, and those inhalants which 
may irritate the nasal passages? 

Here is why: Listerine treats colds for 
what they really are — acute local infec- 
tions. And the quickest way to combat 
local infections, as any doctor will tell you, 
is to kill the germs involved in them. That 
is exactly what the Listerine gargle does. 

The secret of Listerine's success, we be- 
lieve, must be that it reaches the virus 
(germ) which many authorities say causes 
colds. At the same time it kills by millions 
the threatening "secondary invaders" — 
germs that usually inhabit even normal 
mouths, waiting until resistance is low to 

strike. Among them are the dangerous in- 
fluenza and streptococcus germs. These 
"secondary invaders" are the germs that 
complicate a cold and produce inflam- 
mation. They must be held under control. 

Five minutes after gargling with Lis- 
terine Antiseptic, tests showed a germ re- 
duction averaging 94.6%. Fifteen minutes 
after, 96.7%. Even one hour after, nearly 
80% on the average. This amazing germ 
reduction gives Nature a helping hand, 
and materially reduces the risk of cold. 
That is a matter of laboratory record. 

Use Listerine night and morning, and at 
the first symptom of a cold, increase the 
gargle to once every two hours. This pleas- 
ant precaution may spare you a long and 
expensive period of suffering. 

Lambert Pharmacal Co., St. Louis, Mo. 




The average reduction was 96.7% 

The r g If P f h - S Sh0w test results as to 
the relative number of disease 

feptic b a e n ° d re ^ rgli ^ Listerine Ant" 
septic, and 15 minutes after The 
average reduction was 96.7%. 






Don't take our word or the word of 
famous New York beauties about Lis- 
terine Tooth Paste. Try it yourself. 
See how quickly it attacks tobacco- 
stained deposits on teeth. How its 
fragrant, milky-white solution bathes 
the teeth and gums and leaves them 
fresh, clean and healthy. How its high- 

lustre polishing agents restore natural 
brilliance and beauty to your teeth. 
Don't forget its economy either. More 
than a quarter of a pound of first-rate 
dentifrice in the 40e tube. The 25* 
size is proportionately economical. 
Get a tube from your druggist today. 
Lambert Pharmacal Co., St. Louis, Mo. 

(JlieAmusemeni World is Ablaze ! 






"It's All Over But the Shouting" 
"Spring Love Is in the Air" 

"In the Still of the Night" 
"Who Knows" 
"Why Should I Care" 








!(.«»•»;*.« OLIVER • R Vf' GILBERT 

Directed by ' yerPi(W e 

A Metro -Goldwyn ^ hv 


produced oy 


% ^ 

: 4 



Ziegfeld created it on the stage — 
his greatest triumph! Now — on the 
screen — M-G-M tops even "The Great 
Ziegfeld" itself with a new happi- 
ness hit! . . . Thrilling music! Gorgeous 
girls! Laughs galore! Tender romance 
— of a Princess and a West Point 
cadet — with the grandest cast of 
stars ever in one spectacular picture! 














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On the Cover— Irene Dunne, Natural Color Photograph by George Hurrell 

Hollywood Dream McClelland Barclay 11 

A renowned artist's conception of what pictures mean to women 
If the Windsors Had Come to Hollywood . . . Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jr. 12 
How Tyrone Power Won the Lonely Heart of Janet Gaynor . Barbara Hayes 14 
I Won't Marry Stokowski — says Greta Garbo .... Jim Simmons 16 
Hollywood's Not-So-Ancient Mariners Errcl Flynn 17 

Young Man About Hollywood exposes the West Coast Fleet 
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs 18 

A charming preview of Walt Disney's forthcoming feature 
Hi, Georgie — The Life Story of a Mystery Man . . . Edward Churchill 20 

Beginning — George Raft's biography 
A Girl's Best Friend Is Her Opposite Gretta Palmer 22 

A famous writer describes the women friends of the stars 
Who Said Voiceless ? Ida Zeitlin 24 

Two vital factors made Grace Moore's voice what it is today 
Payboy of the Western World Kirtley Baskette 61 

Gene Autry — Hollywood's most amazing young man 
Skating Through Life Howard Sharpe 62 

Final Installment — life story of Sonja Henie 
Roundup of Youth * Sara Hamilton 68 

The low-down on those newly rising screen starlets 

The Camera Speaks: — 

Tennis — and Stuff 26 

Ginger Rogers proves a glamour girl can be an athlete 
PHOTOPLAY'S Fashion History 28 

Some laughs from another generation 
Leading Hollywood Hostess Returns 32 

Countess di Frasso, champion party -giver, is back 
Glamour Goes Pf-f-f-t 34 

With Carole Lombard and Fredric March in "Nothing Sacred" 
Hollywood Version of "Tovarich" 38 

Brief Reviews of Current Pictures 4 

Choose the Best Picture of 1937 8 

Close Ups and Long Shots 9 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 41 

We Cover the Studios • James Reid 44 

The Shadow Stage 46 

Fashion Letter Gwenn Walters 59 

PHOTOPLAY'S Own Beauty Shop Carolyn Van Wyck 60 

Boos and Bouquets 64 

The Perfect Dinner , • 65 

Hollywood's Junior Legion . . . ' Marianne 67 

Complete Casts of Pictures Reviewed in This Issue 90 

VOL Ul. f No. 1, JANUARY, 1938 

Published Monthly by Macfadden Publications, Inc., 333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 111. • Bernarr Macfadden, President • Irene T. Kennedy, 
Treasurer • Wesley F. Pape, Secretary • General Offices, 205 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y. • Editorial and Advertising Offices, Chanin 
Building, 122 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y., Curtis Harrison, Advertising Manager • Charles H. Shattuck, Manager, Chicago Office • London Agents, 
Macfadden Magazines, Ltd., 30 Bouverie St., London, E. C. 4 • Trade Distributors Atlas Publishing Company, 18, Bride Lane, London, E. C. 4 • Yearly 
Subscription: $2.50 in the United States, $3.00 in U. S. Possessions and Territories, also Cuba, Mexico, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Spain and Pos- 
sessions, and Central and South American countries excepting British Honduras, British, Dutch and French Guiana. $2.50 in Canada and Newfound- 
land. All other countries $5.00 Remittances should be made by check, or postal or express money order • CAUTION — Do not subscribe through 
persons unknown to you • While manuscripts, photographs, and drawings are submitted at the owners' risk, every effort will be made by this organ- 
ization to return those found unavailable if accompanied by sufficient 1st class postage, and explicit name and address. But we will not be responsible 
for any losses of such matter. Entered as second-class matter April 24, 1912, at the post office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879, Copyright, 
1937, by Macfadden Publications, Inc. 




A breezy edition of the Torchy Blane series with forthright 
Glenda Farrell as a newspaper gal out to get her man in the person 
of Barton MacLane, a busy, bustling police lieutenant. Anne 
Nagel and Bill Hopper join the chase. If you like adventurous 
comic strips. {Nov.) 


Olsen and Johnson fans will love this bit of bright hysteria 
wrapped around two "angels" who back a Broadway show, find 
themselves with a murder mystery on their hands. Franklin 
Pangborn is a panic as a swish designer. (.Nov.) 

ir ANGEL Paramount 

The languid Miss Dietrich in a velvety mixture of romance and 
European politics surrounded by Lubitsch's direction, sparkling 
dialogue, perfect photography and a splendid supporting cast. 
Herbert Marshall is the preoccupied husband, Melvyn Douglas 
rounds out the triangle. Better not miss it. (Nov.) 


Here is a worthwhile, simply presented story of rival middies at 
the Naval Academy. James Ellison and Van Heflin are in love with 
Marsha Hunt whose father objects to her marrying. When 
scandal rears its ugly head, the rivals become friends. The back- 
ground is refreshingly authentic, as the scenes were actually taken 
at Annapolis. (Nov.) 


A conglomeration of skits and songs engagingly held together by 
Jack Benny as the screwball promoter of an Artists' Ball who gives 
you the chance to see and hear Ida Lupino, Gail Patrick, the Yacht 
Club Boys, Connie Bosvvell, Andre Kostelanetz, Ben Blue and a 
bevy of artists and models. Definitely dizzy. (Oct.) 


Outside of the fact that this allows Young America a good look at 
Captain Dick Merrill, famed crack pilot, this dull story has little to 
offer. Paula Stone is giddily inept as the heiress-aviatrix who uses 
Dick's ability to save the life of Weldon Heyburn. Captain Merrill 
himself does a swell job. (Dec.) 

* AWFUL TRUTH, THE-Columbia 

The happy combination of Irene Dunne and Cary Grant, plus a 
delightfully gay and romantic story, make this one of the best 
pictures this year. Married, very much in love, but stubborn, they 
find divorce rearing its ugly head, but finally solve their domestic 
relations in a merry, mad and very modern way. Irene and Grant 
are delicious, Ralph Bellamy and the supporting cast equally 
splendid. A command performance. (Dec.) 


A better than usual newspaper yarn dealing with the part 
journalists play in railroading innocent persons to death. Joan 
Blondell is remarkably good as the lady of the press, Pat O'Brien 
is her editor and Margaret Lindsay is the unfortunate victim of 
their go-getting zeal for sensationalism. (Nov.) 


"Bad Guy" equals bad picture. Bruce Cabot plays the unholy 
fellow who gets into scrape after scrape, finally comes to grief. 
Edward Norris is the good boy who reaps his reward in the love of 
Virginia Grey. Don't give it another thought. (Nov.) 


Rough and ready drama of the taxi war in New York, combined 
with an immigrant girl's problems in a new world, tangles Spencer 
Tracy and Luise Rainer in many romantic though exaggerated 
situations. Tracy is a bit ponderous, Luise a bit coy, but it's a 
clever production and there is a fine supporting cast. (Nov.) 


Hilarious situations enliven this story of a veterinarian, Guy 
Kibbee, who inherits his gangster uncle's swag, backs an anti-vice 
crusade, discovers he's the gang's big shot. Cora Witherspoon 
gives a fine performance as Guy's socially ambitious wife, and 
Kibbee scores. (Oct.) 


Barbara Stanwyck, leaving her tears behind her, emerges as a 
smartly dressed, gay and dominant Texan who works wonders with 
playboy Herbert Marshall's life, home and Wall Street business. 
Eric Blore plays assistant to Cupid, Donald Meek is a justice of the 
peace, and Glenda Farrell is a gold-digging show girl. You'll like 
it. (Dec.) 


A lively comedy with a novel triangle idea, this has Anne Nagel 
marrying Warren Hull to spite Henry Mollison who forgot to show 
up at the altar. Then Mollison joins Anne and Warren on their 
honeymoon. It's light and frothy. (Dec.) 


In a Viennese version of the Cinderella tale, Joan Crawford im- 
personates a cabaret girl chosen by an impish count to pose as a 
lady at a fashionable hotel. Here she comes upon a passionate post- 
man, Franchot Tone, and a dizzy playboy, Robert Young. Miss 
Crawford is both gracious and compelling, but the weary plot 
defeats all. (Dec.) 


Stuffed with much of Hollywood's best talent, this follow-up o 
"Broadway Melody of 1936" again teams Bob Taylor and Eleanor 
Powell. Bob's role as a producer seems lost in the melee of song 
and dance acts, but Eleanor is lithesome as usual and George 
Murphy shines brightly as do Judy Garland, Sophie Tucker and 
others. (Nov.) 


Even Kay Francis found it difficult to sustain the somber burden 
of this moody melodrama based on a Madame X theme. Basil 
Rathbone is the dog responsible for Miss Francis' downfall. Ian 
Hunter struggles along as the unsympathetic husband; Jane Bryan 
is the daughter. (Ocl.) 


Among the current rash of jewel-thief pix this had better be 
ignored. A huge diamond is stolen, and Cesar Romero, the most 

Consult This Movie Shopping Guide and 
Save Your Time, Money and Disposition 




ALI BABA GOES TO TOWN-20th Century-Fox 

BARRIER, THE— Paramount 




DANGER-LOVE AT WORK-20th Century-Fox 
45 FATHERS-20th Century-Fox . 
HEIDI— 20th Century-Fox 
HURRICANEJHE— SamGoldwyn-United Artists 
LOOK OUT, MR. MOTO— 20th Century-Fox 
MERRY-GO-ROUND OF 1938— Universal 

SECOND HONEYMOON— 20th Century-Fox 





obvious suspect, finds romance with Phyllis Brooks. Jane Darwel 
moves ponderously throughout, and Alan Dinehart is a heavy 
heavy. (Dec.) 


Disappointing after Bing Crosby's former smash hits, this vague 
musical is based on the familiar device of four funny people 

Casanova McCarthy chisels in on Edgar Ber- 
gen's love scene with Andrea Leeds, but 
who can blame Andrea for two-timing when 
the fascinating Charlie's in the offing! Bob- 
by Clark, of stage fame, and Ella Logan add 
to the hilarity of "The Goldwyn Follies" 

benefiting from the will of an eccentric. Mary Carlisle is Bing's 
foil. The score is nice. (Oct.) 


The famous Myrna Loy-Bill Powell combination in a stew of 
romance and boisterous comedy. Bill plays a roustabout adven- 
turer living in a trailer. When lie liulits out for Hollywood with 
Florence Rice and John Beal in tow, the staid Miss Loy upsets the 
applecart. Better go, but don't expect perfection. (Dec.) 

•k EBB TIDE— Paramount 

Robert Louis Stevenson's powerful adventure story of human 
derelicts in the South Seas is filmed in Technicolor with masterly 
direction and a notably fine cast including Britain's Oscar Homolka 
(he played Paul Kruger in "Rhodes, The Diamond Master"), Ray 
Milland, Frances Farmer, Barry Fitzgerald and Lloyd Nolan. 
Story, production and acting are outstanding. You can't afford to 
miss this. (Dec.) 

(Continued on page. 88) 



PHIL tenTS'*"?'*** 

nlSS *"■ 









KAY THOMPSON and Her Radio Choir • JOE DiMAGGIO 
AND . . . Introducing That Singing Cowboy Star 



Directed by CHARLES F. RIESNER • Original screen play by HARRY 
SAUBER • Adapted from the musical revue "Manhattan Merry-Go- 
Round" by FRANK HUMMERT • Associate Producer HARRY SAUBER 

HIT TUNES . . . 
"Round Up Time In Reno" 
"Have You Ever Been In Heaven?' 
"Mama, I Wanna Make Rhythm" 
"I Owe You" 
"All Over Nothing At All" 



^k if ' 






warier inns: Christmas present 

'S 'm 





The show that gave Paris a new sensation, thrilled London, and captured New York . . . now in 
the full glory of the screen's mighty magic . . . with a great cast of supporting stars including 


Screen play by Casey Robinson • Adapted from the play by Jacques Deval • English 
Version by Robert E. Sherwood • Music by Max Steiner • A Warner Bros. Picture 

It's on the way to your favorite theatre now — the grandest 
love and laughter picture of this or any other year! . . . A 
glorious Christmas treat for a hundred million movie-goers. 



Each year Hollywood watches for PHOTOPLAY'S 
Gold Medal Award. Once again our readers 
are invited to select the winner. Vote now! 

SINCE 1920 the motion-picture studios 
have competed with each other for the 
honor of winning Photoplay's an- 
nual Gold Medal for the best picture pro- 
duced during the year. Since 1920 our thou- 
sands of readers have consistently held a 
record for unerring taste and sound judg- 
ment in voting this award to a picture out- 
standing for its fine production, direction, 
acting and photography. Once again we ask 
you to select the winner! Looking back over 
the winners of previous years, we know you 
will not fail us. 

This has been a year of glorious achieve- 
ment in the motion-picture industry. An 
amazing number of pictures has been pro- 
duced that are so generally excellent it will 
be harder than ever to decide which one was 
the best. Adventure, romance, mystery, 
musicals, sea sagas, westerns, grand opera, 
costume pictures, childhood classics — the list 
is endless. For your benefit, we list here 
outstanding pictures of 1937. Space does not 
permit us to record every fine picture, so if 
your favorite is not here, vote anyway. 

The Photoplay Gold Medal is the only 
award of its kind in which the public abso- 
lutely has the whole say. No board of judges 
sits in to decide the vote. You and you only, 
are both the jury and the judge. Your vote, 
this year, encourages the producer to make 
even better pictures next year. 

The medal, a facsimile of which appears 
above, is solid gold, designed and executed 
by Tiffany & Co. Acting as your representa- 
tive, we will bestow this distinguished award 
on the studio which produced the picture 
which wins the most votes. We wish to em- 
phasize that any picture released in 1937 
may be voted upon. Don't miss this chance 
of deciding on such an important matter. 

We should like you to vote as early as pos- 
sible. Fill out the ballot (right), or just 
write your choice on a slip of paper and send 
it in to the Gold Medal Editor, Photoplay, 
122 East 42nd Street, New York, New York.' 

What was the Best Picture of 1937? 
Don't delay! Vote now! 








































Adventures of Mar- 
co Polo, The 

AH Baba Goes to 


Awful Truth, The 

Barrier, The 

Black Legion 

Call It a Day 


Captains Coura- 


Damsel, in Distress, 

Day at the Races, A 

Dead End 

Easy Living 

Ebb Tide 

Firefly, The 

Fire Over England 

Good Earth, The 

Head Over Heels in 


High, Wide and 

History Is Made at 

Hurricane, The 

I Met Him in Paris 

Kid Galahad 

King and the Chorus 
Girl, The 

Knight Without Ar- 

Last Gangster, The 

Last of Mrs. Chey- 
ney, The 

Life of Emile Zola, 

Lost Horizon 

Love Is News 
Make Way for To- 

Marked Woman 


Merry -Go -Round of 

Night Must Fall 

Nothing Sacred 

One In A Million 

100 Men and a Girl 


Perfect Specimen, 

Plough and the 
Stars, The 

Prince and the Pau- 
per, The 

Prisoner of Zenda 

Quality Street 

Road Back, The 

Second Honeymoon 

Stella Dallas 

Stage Door 

Star is Born, A 

Souls at Sea 

Shall We Dance 


Swing High, Swing 

They Won't Forget 


Three Smart Girls 

Victoria the Great 

Vogues of 1938 

Wake Up And Live 

Wee Willie Winkie 

Wife, Doctor And 

Woman Chases 




In my opinion the picture named below is the 
best motion picture production released in 1937 





DEAR Readers, this has been quite a 
month on your editor, for I not only 
have had to put out a magazine but I 
also have had my picture taken . . . both 
plain and with Clark Gable . . . and be- 
tween those two points I assure you lies a 
lot of traffic. . . . 

This month began just like an average Hol- 
lywood month which, of course, is totally 
unlike a month anywhere else on earth . . . 
I wasn't a bit startled when a perfectly 
strange man called me at home at midnight 
one night and said that he had an exclusive 
interview with Garbo about her not marry- 
ing Stokowski and could he bring the story 
into the office at ten the next morning? . . . 
and I was even less surprised when he got 
there at three rather than at ten. . . . 

I didn't even blink when, after Walt Disney 
had sent me up those enchanting pictures of 
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (see 

The day Miss Waterbury presented the 
Rhett portrait to Clark Gable, and also 
the day she posed solo for M-G-M's 
famous new photographer, the noted 
European, Lazlo Willinger, she learned 
two vital truths of Hollywood success 

page 18) , he called to say that he had to have 
them back again for an hour or so for re- 
takes. . . . 

I was moved as deeply and sincerely as I 
have ever been at any work of art when I 
saw "Conquest," that exquisite production 
starring Garbo and Charles Boyer with 
Boyer giving what for my money is the 
finest character performance I have ever 
seen on the screen . . . yet somehow not 
overshadowing that greatest artist of them 
all, the divine Greta. . . . 

I had the extreme pleasure of lunching 
with Herbert Yates, the new head of Re- 
public Pictures, and finding him the type of 
intelligent hardheaded businessman that this 
industry sorely needs. . . . 

I GOT stood up on a date with Tyrone Power 
on account of he had a date that same day 
with Janet Gaynor and quite naturally by 


comparison forgot my glamour — if any. . . . 

I went down to Paramount to get smart 
little Edith Head to design a dress for me and 
got the ribbing of my life from Edith, Travis 
Banton, Mary McQuire, who is the fitter, and 
that elegant Miss Colbert who strolled in 
just as they were measuring me. . . the 
trouble was they all had different ideas as to 
how that — I was taught in kindergarten to 
call it my form — might be camouflaged. . . . 

I managed to arrive at Fox the day that 
Miss Temple put up her curls and gx-abbed 
the very first shots of the world-shaking 
event for Photoplay. . . . 

I called one day at Goldwyn's and met 
Charlie McCarthy. . . . 

I went to previews night after night and 
the Eddie Cantor dinner and the huge Bor- 
zage party and talked with writers by day 
and stars by night. . . . 

Ah yes, it was in its way a typical Holly- 
wood month ... or would have 
been if I had kept away from those 
photographers. . . . 

IT was those bright boys at Metro 
who started it all . . . they have on 
that lot a new photographer from 
Europe named Lazlo Willinger, and 
by way of proving that he could 
photograph anything, I suppose, 
they suggested that he photograph 
me . . . and thoroughly compli- 
mented I was at the result. . . . 

Then they began getting subtle on 
me . . . they said they thought it 
would be a good idea if I had a full 
make-up put on by Jack Dawn, 
head of their make-up department 
. . . well, little did I realize what 
truths I was to learn about my- 
self. . . . 

A more charming, competent gen- 
tleman than Mr. Dawn I'd never ex- 
pect to find, and I hope I never meet 
a more honest one. . . . 
First of all he didn't think much of the 
way my hair was done ... a grand girl 
named Olga came along to do something 
about that ... I'd heard about Olga ... I 
knew she was Garbo's hairdresser so while 
she worked on my head I worked on Olga 
trying to get Garbo information from her 
. . . well, she got further than I did . . . 
for at least she accomplished what she set out 
to do while all the Garbo stuff I gleaned 
from her could have been printed very com- 
fortably on the head of a pin. . . . 

Finally, though, my curls were set and Mr. 
Dawn took over ... he was very swell 
about it, but ah how truthful ... he said my 
eyebrows weren't so good . . . that my 
mouth was crooked . . . that the less said 
about my nose the better . . . outside of that 
I could pass . . . the miracle was that when 
he got through I did look fairly human . . . 
(Continued on page 87) 


; ,^/ e W 'fta/cky 


Whenever you murmur about Hollywood salaries, do remember 
the dream the stars stand for — the dream of all the lonely 
women in a world that sometimes doesn't portion its happi- 
ness quite evenly. Remember, too, that in the darkness of a 
little theater, in exchange for a few silver coins, they can 
watch come true a romance that has eluded too many of them, 
find for a few hours happiness too many of them have missed 



NOW that the world's greatest lovers are 
not coming to America, now that their 
trip is probably "indefinitely post- 
poned," the truth about the doubts and fears 
that assailed Hollywood over the promised 
visit of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor 
can be told. 

It was a certainty, a few months ago, that 
the world's most glamorous couple were 
planning to visit the world's most glamorous 
city this month. 

During this proposed California trip they 
had expected to visit William Randolph 
Hearst at San Simeon. This had been "in 
the cards" since some weeks before that 

fateful day when Edward made his never-to- 
be-forgotten radio address of abdication for 
"The Woman I Love." 

And so, similarly, when they were to be on 
the coast they had expected to stay with 
Marion Davies, since she had been a friend 
of Wally's for some time. Arrangements for 
this part of their Hollywood trip had been 
going on under cover for months. Edward 
wanted to have several long chats with 
Charlie Chaplin, to meet Walt Disney whom 
he admires, and to be permitted "on set" 
while Shirley Temple was making a picture. 

Wally's film "ideal" (if she could be said 

to be interested in anyone save her ex-King) 
is Gene Raymond. Can you guess why — or 
can't you see the strong resemblance? Then, 
she thinks Bill Powell is just about the 
"smoothest thing on rubber heels." Like all 
women all the world over she wanted to 
dance with Fred Astaire; and hear Bing 
Crosby croon. 

The names of many prominent filmland 
hostesses had been presented to the Wind- 
sors weeks in advance in hopes of learning 
exactly by whom they chose to be enter- 
tained. And a little bird told me that they 
had okayed the Irving Berlins, the Lewis 
Milestones, the Darryl Zanucks, the Mervyn 





— the fever of fear and doubt that was ramp- 

ant there could never have been revealed. 

But here the truth comes to the surface — 

would the Windsors have been snubbed ? 



On the surface, Hollywoodians 
were all prepared to meet and 
greet and fete this famous pair, 
but our author tells you why 
they are not shedding tears of 
regret but heaving sighs of re- 
lief that, for the present, a 
touchy situation has been avoided 

LeRoys, the Johnny Considines, the Cedric 
Gibbons, the Doug Fairbanks, the Franchot 
Tones, the John Barrymores, the Walter 
Wangers, and the Louis B. Mayers, in addi- 
tion to the star already mentioned above. 

As delighted as these people were to have 
been "accepted" by the ex-King of England, 
they were, nevertheless, in a tough spot. For 
Hollywood is no longer a suburb of Los An- 
geles where they make motion pictures, but 
it is an international enterprise depending 
upon the good will of all nations for its pros- 
perity. Only recently Hollywood discovered 
this in the case of Vittorio Mussolini. 

The story runs that Hal Roach, a producer 

of comedies, met the son of II Duce in Rome 
and asked him if he would be interested in 
seeing how films were made. Things began 
to happen very rapidly. "R-A-M" was 
formed. This meant "Roach-and-Mussolini." 
And the boy came over. 

KOACH sent out invitations for a great 
dinner party in his honor. He thought he 
had put over a fine piece of social and po- 
litical business until he was rudely awakened 
by the number of regrets he received. It 
seemed that more than half of Hollywood — 
the important half — couldn't attend the din- 
ner that evening. 

And so, even though the party that night 
was much less of a success than they had 
anticipated, things were much worse next 

Full-page advertisements began appearing 
in several movieland papers denouncing the 
Italian dictator's son in no uncertain terms, 
and reprinting excerpts from his recently 
published book which dealt with his own 
part in the Ethiopian catastrophe. 

One of these advertisements read: "Ex- 
cerpts from 'Voli Sulle Ambe' (Wings Over 
Ambe) by Vittorio Mussolini. Pub. in Flor- 
ence, Italy, 1936: 'We received the order to 
repeat the bombardment. It was most divert- 
ing ... It may be I had expected too much. 
I had anticipated terrific explosions such as 
in the American films whereas here the huts 
of the Ethiopians, made as they are of clay 
and brushwood, do not offer the bomber any 
satisfaction . . . war certainly educates. I 
recommend it to everybody . . . War for us 
has been a sport, the most beautiful and com- 
plete of all sports.' " 

Following this quote was this terse com- 
ment: "Hollywood is on record throughout 
the country as having welcomed Signor Vit- 
torio Mussolini with open arms. We feel that 
Hollywood does not deserve this reputation. 
We can best show the world what Holly- 
wood really feels about Vittorio Mussolini 
(Continued on page 72) 









A little boy grew up to make a dream 
come true and bring happiness to a 
star he had worshipped from afar 


OVER ten years ago a thin, dark-eyed 
but already good-looking boy of 
twelve walked on fast-growing lanky 
legs into a Cincinnati movie palace to see a 
picture called "Seventh Heaven." People 
were saying that a new star had been born 
in this film; that it was a masterpiece of 
modern photography; that the performances 
of Charlie Farrell, and of Janet Gaynor es- 
pecially, were fine and emotional and very 

But the boy didn't care about the word-of- 
mouth campaign that was making "Seventh 
Heaven" such a success. He rode over and 
parked his bicycle outside the theater and 
went in because he'd made some extra money 
running errands for a drugstore, and be- 
cause it was Saturday afternoon, when he 
always went to the movies. 

He chose a seat in the second row — the 
first was full of other children — opened a 
package of Jujubes, and settled himself com- 
fortably on his spine. Five minutes later he 
was tingling all over with first love. 

The young preadolescent's name was Ty- 
rone Power, and his new affinity was the pro- 
jected shadow of Janet Gaynor; and today 
these two have all Hollywood whispering 
curiously — because not only is he still in 
love with her, she is in love with him, breath- 
lessly, completely . . . 

To have held onto a seemingly hopeless 
devotion for ten long years, through the end- 
less change from boy to youth to man; to 
forget, at periodic intervals, those figures 
labeled vaguely in his mind as blonde and 
brunette and Mabel and Nickie and Sonja 
and a goodly number of other names; but 
always to remember at last the nebulous 
adoration of a distant and unattainable love 
— this is the amazing thing, the fact that is 
so incongruous with Tyrone and his genera- 
tion. Usually a movie fan is unfaithful in 
relation to his favorite star's success or fail- 
ure. Usually he shifts his worship from one 
to another as his attitudes change. 

But when Hollywood's newest young con- 
tract actor was given a minor role in "Ladies 
in Love," and on the set of that picture met 
Janet Gaynor, its star, for the first time, he 
could say nothing. Tyrone was not a fellow 
actor being introduced to one of the other 

When Tyrone first met Janet that meeting meant far more to 
him than just one fellow actor being introduced to another 

employees at Twentieth Century-Fox, he 
was the boy who during ten years — as an 
errand boy and a soda jerker and an Or- 
pheum usher and a road-show stock player 
— had seen every Gaynor picture four times, 
and had tacked her photograph over his 
dresser to look at when he combed his hair. 
He was a fan meeting a star, and so was 

Janet said, "How do you do"; was momen- 
tarily appreciative of his eyes; waited for 
some sort of answer. When he merely stared 
at her, dumbly, she thought with disappoint- 
ment: "Oh." And turned away, dismissing 
him from her mind. 

bHE was still so unattainable to him that he 
didn't even consider telephoning her to ask 
for a date. His adoration of her was a de- 
tached thing; it had no physical importance; 

it was a disembodied emotion, ideal because 
it demanded nothing. When he was away 
from her he still thought of her as the Janet 
Gaynor of the screen, a shadow, a kind of 
dream — and she was in his mind only occa- 

So it was that he could sincerely beau 
Sonja Henie about town, as he had beaued 
so many other girls about so many other 

Nevertheless, the day after he met Janet 
he went to a florist and had three dozen red 
roses sent — anonymously — to the Gaynor 
dressing room. The next day he wrote a 
check and established a standing order for 
the flowers to be delivered, wherever she 
was, three times a week and from different 
florists so she could not check up on the 
person who was sending those roses that 
(Continued on page 88) 




Because the author had once been on her studio crew, 
it was to him alone that Garbo revealed the facts 





A story from the man who scooped 

every newspaper reporter in the coun- 

try — by talking to Garbo herself 


THE great, the glamorous Garbo. Around 
this Swedish "Madonna of the Screen" 
there has been wrapped a chimerical veil 
of mystery and silence until she has become 
an almost legendary figure. 

Many times she has been rumored about to 

Currently, up to fevered pitch, has come 
the cry that the beautiful Norsewoman will 
at last plunge into matrimony — with white- 
haired Leopold Stokowski, he of the expres- 
sive hands in "100 Men and a Girl," the 
world-famous leader of the Philadelphia 
Symphony Orchestra. 

Hollywood has buzzed, news has zinged 
along wires to the nation and the world, gos- 
sip columnists have speculated in print, radio 
chatterers have flung their opinions over the 
air waves. 

Mrs. Evelyn Stokowski is in Nevada to get 

a divorce, it went. Garbo has been seen 
everywhere with Stokowski, they said, and 
is madly in love with him. Mrs. Stokowski 
will spill plenty . . . Watch . . . Wait . . . 
Buzz . . . Buzz . . . 


Garbo will not marry Stokowski! 

I know — I talked with her! 

I NO," she told me, "no, I will not marry 
Mr. Stokowski." 

It was one of the rare interviews ever 
obtained by anyone from the glamorous star 
herself. The only one in which she openly 
discussed current romance rumors concern- 
ing herself. 

This unprecedented happening took place 
outside George Cukor's mansion in the hills 
above Hollywood, after a mad and merry 
automobile chase with me in hot pursuit of 
the phantom star's black limousine. 

It had come about after I had, by careful 
sleuthing, spotted the current home of Garbo, 
waited patiently for her appearance, and 
been rewarded when I saw her start off in 
her car bound for somewhere. 

I followed. I was determined to talk to at 
least one of the principals in this reported 
romance. I am a reporter. I wanted to know. 

Closely I followed the speeding car as it 
swung onto Sunset Boulevard, down through 
Bel-Air and Beverly Hills. As I strained 
to keep always in sight that black car ahead, 
there ran through my mind the names of 
those other men with whom Garbo's name 
has been linked in romance in the twelve 

years in which she has become the screen's 
greatest actress and its epitome of glamour. 

Maurice Stiller — the man who brought 
a gawky, awkward Swedish girl to New York 
and then Hollywood where she was to fulfill 
a destiny. Stiller, a great director who saw 
the potentialities in this attenuated, mystic- 
eyed beauty. A man with whom she was 
genuinely in love. 

John Gilbert — the silent films' great lover 
with whom she played in passionate love 
scenes before grinding cameras and with 
whom she was wildly infatuated. 

Rouben Mamoulian — gossips had him mar- 
ried to the "Swedish Sphinx" when they 
traveled to Arizona on their now famous trip. 
Her director in "Queen Christina." Dis- 
tinctly "arty." Hailed a genius on one side, 
with disagreement on the other. But a man 
who held Garbo's romantic interest vividly 
for a time. 

George Brent — she met Brent, virile, good- 
looking, strictly a man's man, known in Hol- 
lywood as a perennial bachelor (until his re- 
cent stormy marital adventure with Con- 
stance Worth) when he became her leading 
man in "The Painted Veil," was intrigued by 
him, became a frequent visitor to his Toluca 
Lake home for tennis and tete-a-tete din- 
ners. (Brent once told me that he consid- 
ered Garbo the most fascinating woman he 
had ever known — or known of.) 

George Cukor — also her director. He 

guided her in "Camille." More than anyone 

else, Cukor was responsible for bringing 

(Continued on page 86) 





Our Young Man About Hollywood 

describes the saltiest crew that ever 

sailed the seas — the West Coast fleet 


The author in nautical action — 
one of those few real yachts- 
men in Hollywood who don't 
sit talking about yachting, but 
practice it — in dungarees 

WITH some people it's horses; 
others like cars and others still go 
for postage stamps. Personally, 
I'm one of the men who gets a bit weak in 
the knees at either the sight of a slim-hulled 
yacht or a ditto mermaid. 

I haven't seen any of the latter since I 
went on the water wagon. 

I have seen one of the former, however — 
the Cheerio II — and I promptly bought her 
A new life began and it was then that I 
learned of a new side of Hollywood — the 
side where driftwood is substituted for dance 
floors, where kelp beds take the place of 
feather beds and blondes. That sounds swell. 
I wish it were true. 

Perhaps you'll think me naive, but I had 
assumed that these chaps who are forever 
playing parts before the mast knew some- 
thing about sailing. For the most part they 
are very convincing in their pictures as they 
stride the poop deck and bawl their orders 
at chantey-singing seamen. Then when I 
heard that some of these same men owned 

their own boats in private life and occasion- 
ally could be heard discussing the relative 
merits of certain types of sail, I began to feel 
a certain brotherly emotion surging in the 

It didn't surge there very long before it 
became the surge of nausea and, with it, 
came the realization that the best seaman 
in the bunch and the man who should be 
Commodore of the Hollywood fleet was Pop- 
eye, the Sailorman. 

At a party you can always spot a pair of 
. these boat owners by the wary look in their 
eyes as they talk shop. Like a couple of 
fencers they feint around with tentatively 
salty language, obviously quoting from some 
nautical magazine and praying to high 
heaven that their vis-a-vis hasn't read the 
same one. 

UON'T get the idea that there aren't a few 
— a very few — real yachtsmen in Hollywood. 
There are, but they are hard to find because 
they don't talk yachting, they practice it — 
which means you'll only find them beating 
up the channel, running down the coast or, 
clad in dirty dungarees, over the side with a 
bucket of white lead. But where you won't 
find them is in the Trocadero Bar getting a 
good coat of Mazda Tan, or giving an inde- 
cent exposure of their minds every time 
they open their mouths when the talk 
(Continued on page 82) 



A galaxy of favorites old and new especially drawn for us. Close-ups (below and opposite page) of the new characters, by courtesy of Walt Disney 

C—4- ll> k&teplau C^xLcLiisive btinaa uou a ritAl iuiui\ne of lIioac yiizif — tale ckatacteTz, &cou La be <rautoi4,£ 




% v ^ 

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g>ea*on'£ (greeting*, pfjotoplap! 

Come join us in our holiday. 

It's one of joy and great delight 

For now at last we've finished "SNOW WHITE.' 

We've worried and hurried and scurried around 
Preparing our Princess for color and sound; 
We've grunted and groaned and lived by our wits 
And written new music to see that it fits. 

Three years we have labored, worked without end, 
Thousands of drawings our artists have penned'; 
But, alas and alack, since we can't tell you more 
We give you these pages of fairy-tale lore. 


The dwarfs came home from a busy day 
And found a guest was there, 
Upon the bed, asleep she lay, 
Snow White — their Princess fair. 

GRUMPY is a cagey lad 
His feelings in a shell, 

He always looks as if he's mad 
At heart he's simply swell. 

SNEEZY is a funny bloke, 

He snuffles, coughs and wheezes, 

But when a fella tells a joke 
Invariably he sneezes. 

D P E Y ' S quite a looney guy 

So mischievous and sly, 
But when you see him strut his stuff 

You'll laugh until you cry. 

BASHFUL is afraid of girls 

And yet he loves Snow White, 

But when she turns to smile at him 
He nearly dies of fright. 

SLEEPY is a lazy cuss 

A good-for-nothing dreamer 
Who saves himself a lot of fuss 

By being quite a schemer. 

S our self-appointed boss 
As vain as he is snooty, 
To us he's just a total loss 
But he thinks he's a cutey. 

Among our merry little band 
Is this balooney chappie, 

Who laughs all day and acts so gay 
We always call him HAPPY 







From his maternal ancestry George 
inherited his liquid brown eyes and 
swarthy skin; from his father's — an 
all-consuming ambition that carried 
him to stardom. But beneath an 
unemotional surface lies a nature 
few know as well as Virginia Pine 

'HEN I went East this last time," 
George Raft told me, "I was anx- 
ious to see Mom. I'd been a good 
boy. I'd worked hard. I wanted to tell her 
about my picture. And I had a big surprise 
for her." 

The surprise George referred to was the 
picture he had just made, "Souls at Sea." It 
had been previewed. Frances Dee, who ap- 
pears in it, had told me: 

"It's George's picture." 

George had liked working with Henry 
Hathaway, the director, with Gary Cooper, 
costarred. It appeared that George, after six 
years as a Hollywood "bad boy," was getting 
into harness with the idea of staying there. 
The studio was talking of "the new and dif- 
ferent Raft." As a man, much less trouble. 
As an actor, a Raft with the oil out of his 
hair, playing a seaman of the 1840's who 
gave his life for a girl. 

George caught the Louis-Braddock fight at 


In exploding those Hollywood myths concern- 
ing George Raft this author gives you a vivid 
picture of a boy who wanted the spotlight 

Chicago, went on to a New York which, to 
him, is a nostalgic mixture of lights, night 
clubs, "we boys," dames, boyhood memories 
and home. 

Mom greeted him joyously in her Wash- 
ington Heights apartment. Mom loved 
George, the lamb who strayed, with a fierce, 
protective passion. Once upon a time when 
George was to be rubbed out by mobsters in 
"Scarface," Eva Glockner Ranft, which is 
her full name, rose from her seat in the the- 
ater and screamed: 

"Don't let 'em get you, Georgie!" 

George told her about his work. 

"And, Mom," he added, "here's the big 
news. That first trip West was a bust be- 
cause of your asthma — but this one won't be. 
The doctors say I can take you to the Coast 
in six months. You've got to be high up, like 
you are here on the Heights. So I've bought 
a lot in a canyon above Beverly Hills. I'm 
building a ten-room house for you and me." 

An architect was already working on the 
plans and the place would be ready by the 
time she could make the trip West. George 
was very matter-of-fact about the whole 
thing. That's his way. The sentimental 

stream in his nature runs 
deep, doesn't show through 
the brittle, steely surface of 
his personality. But he re- 
joiced that they would be 
together for the first time 
since he'd run away from 
home when he was four- 

/\ FEW nights later, at six 
o'clock, George telephoned 
his mother, a daily custom, 
to find out how she felt. 

"I'm grand, Georgie," she 
replied. "Ready for that 

A call came through to 
George at ten o'clock. 

"Mrs. Ranft has had a 
stroke," a physician in- 
formed him. 

Eva Ranft was in a coma 
when George reached her. 
She remained unconscious 
for twenty-six hours while 
George, fighting with every- 
thing and every brain 
money could command, 
fought that undefeated an- 
tagonist, death. 
He lost. 

From that moment until 
he entered the church he 
was the cold automaton of the screen — hard, 
unemotional. Smoothly, methodically, effi- 
ciently, he handled every detail of the fu- 
neral, all other affairs. 

Mack Gray, his constant companion, 
walked on one side and a friend on the other. 
Then George heard the organ. He stopped 
in his tracks. The music had hit him just as 
in other years ring opponents had clipped 
him on the chin. 

"That dirge told me," George said today, 
"that my mother was gone. Ever since I've 
been a kid I've heard it. It brought back a 
lot of things that hurt inside." 

It wove a pattern of sorrow. His father, 
Conrad Ranft, had died seven years before. 
Katherine, his sister, had gone two years 
previous. Before that, nine brothers had 
marched onward in silent procession to the 
music. But what was more poignant — 

"For the first time," George explained, "I 
realized I was alone." 

Today he is the survivor of his family. He 
returned from New York, a sorrowing man, 
to a home that will be empty of his mother's 

"It's always been that way," he says. 

"First I've gotten what I wanted — and then 
something's been snatched away from me." 

CjEORGE has filled two ambitions. Two 
fine lines of accomplishment are drawn 
through his amazing career — a life which has 
taken him from a railroad apartment in 
Forty-first Street, between Ninth and Tenth 
Avenues, in New York City, to a penthouse 
atop one of Hollywood's most exclusive 
apartment houses. A life which has taken 
him from a bed of empty potato sacks in the 
basement of a neighborhood grocery store to 
the finest beds that money can buy. A life 
which has taken him from a two-dollar-a- 
week job as delivery boy to a salary of thou- 
sands of dollars every week. A life which 
has taken him through two loves to the adu- 
lation of millions of women. 

The two fine lines? 

"When I was a kid," George explains, "I 
decided to be somebody. I wanted the spot- 
light. I wanted everybody to know me, and 
to say, 'Hi, Georgie!' ' 

The fates have nodded to that choice 
through four separate careers. 

"When I was a kid," George repeats, "I 
wanted to succeed by myself. I wanted to 
be alone, to go it alone." 

The fates have bowed to that request, too. 
For George is alone. Living today are two 
people who really know George Raft. One is 
Mack Gray. The other is Virginia Pine 
Lehmann. To the rest of the world, George 
is a name and a picture character. A slick- 
haired, patent-leather guy who flipped a 
nickel through the ten reels of "Scarface." 
A fellow who wears high-waisted clothes, 
who gets his way with men by pushing them 
around, and who gets his way with women 
by looking at them as if he's going to push 
them around. 

That isn't George Raft. 

Nor is there a clear picture of George in 
the legends which have been kicked around 
wherever English is spoken. 

The real George is an unsettled fellow 
who doesn't quite know what to do with 
himself. Who has what he wants and isn't 
quite sure whether or not he wants it. A 
guy who, under that highly polished patina 
of sophistication is a rank sentimentalist with 
a sensitive nature, easily hurt, who there- 
fore takes offense easily. A person who 
gropes around looking for something he can't 
find now that he's found the unsatisfying 
things he started to look for. 

All these characteristics reveal themselves 
in a few short minutes. 

"That house I'm going to build," he says. 
(Continued on page 83) 



■ ; J* 

Genius and her Girl Friend; Famous Female and 
her Foil; Star and Stooge — label them what 
you will — but these are the women with whom 
the stars and starlets take down their back hair 



THE sight-seer in most cities can take his 
time: the Empire State Building or the 
Tower of London isn't going to budge. 
The sight-seer in Hollywood has to keep mov- 
ing to a constant chorus of, "They're here," 
"They've gone," "They passed that way." 
Chasing the picture stars takes him, at a 
fast clip, to the studios, the Brown Derby, the 
race track, the night plane for New York. 

When the sight-seer catches up with the 
star, autograph book in hand, he usually sees 
two figures emerge from the sleek limousine 
into the flashlights. An actress and her boy 
friend? Not at all. 

The twosome is far more frequently one 
the press photographers will label Genius 
and her Girl Friend. Or Famous Female and 
her Foil. Or Star and Stooge. . . . 

The glamorous ladies of Hollywood have 
close women friends, contrary to the general 
belief that any girl with sex appeal must 
spend her life being a Man's Woman. Old- 
fashioned dramatists knew better; their fa- 
vorite stage direction was "Enter Confi- 
dante." At this point in the play a mildly 
unattractive girl entered from the left and 
gave the heroine a chance to relax. Confi- 
* dantes abound in Hollywood today. 

Someone has said that famous women don't 
need husbands — they need wives. In many 
cases the Hollywood stars' best friends run 
their households, save them from interrup- 
tions, coo and cluck them into a cheerful 
mood when things have gone wrong, in the 
best approved wifely manner. In other cases 
the girl friend is around less constantly, but 
she serves her purpose as a repository of 
secrets and a builder-up of self-esteem. 

MOVING-PICTURE stars have their car- 
pet-slipper moods. They know moments 
when they are tired of being too darned 
glamorous on the lot and in the drawing 
room. They want to loll around in an old 
flannel dressing gown with cold cream on 
their faces. The men they know would be 
scandalized if they could see them then; the 
women friends curl up with their knitting 
and let them talk. 

Consider, for instance, the cult of the hair- 
dresser as confidante among the glamorous 
girls out West. No woman is a heroine to 
the person who sees her with her head stuck 
in a soapy bowl, or with the Topsy-like con- 
trivance of the permanent wave attached. 
But Joan Blondell's best friend is her hair- 
dresser, Ruth Pursley, who attended her 
when she married Dick Powell. 

Marlene Dietrich's closest intimate is Nel- 
lie Manley, another curl-and-cuticle girl in 

Reading clockwise: Phyllis Fraser and 
Ginger Rogers; Katharine Hepburn 
jnd Laura Harding; Alice Faye and 
Helene Holmes; Loretta Young and 
Mrs. John Wayne; Paula Stone, 
Phyllis Fraser, Anne Shirley, Jacque- 
ine Wells and Lana Turner; Jane 
Draper and Grace Moore; Norma 
Shearer and Merle Oberon; Mr. and 
Mrs. Gary Cooper, Dolores Del Rio 
and Cedric Gibbons. All famous 
friendships: the story tells the tale 


Hollywood. When Dietrich went to England 
to make "Knight Without Armor," British 
Gaumont paid Nellie's expenses, so that she 
might accompany Marlene. But when the 
picture was finished, Dietrich, at her own 
expense, took Nellie to Paris, bought her an 
entirely new wardrobe and finished off the 
whole thing by taking Nellie on a grand 
tour of the Continent. 

Last Christmas, Marlene presented Nellie 
with a new Ford car. When Nellie saw the 
car she climbed in, stepped on the starter and 
burst into tears. With tears streaming down 
her cheeks, she rode around and around the 
block with Marlene standing on the corner 
watching the strange sight. Finally Nellie 
stopped the car and tried to thank Marlene 
who was so bewildered, she, too, began cry- 

Marlene has twice tried to break the rule 
which says that two important women stars 
cannot be close friends without damaging 
their careers. When she first came to Amer- 
ica she was a vast admirer of the work of 
Joan Crawford and was seen everywhere 
with her. But when a movie magazine com- 
pared their work, von Sternberg, Miss Diet- 
rich's director, interfered. 

"They are using you to build up Joan," 

he said. "I won't have it! You must see no 

more of her." And that was the end of a 

(Continued on page 76) 



SEVERAL months ago in this very maga- 
zine there was published an article 
which stated that Grace Moore was des- 
perately worried and haunted by the fear 
that she would become voiceless. Having 
listened to her radio broadcast the week be- 
fore reading the article and having heard the 
golden notes of hers that came pouring out as 
honey-smooth and pure and true as I have 
ever heard, this sounded cockeyed to me, and 
in the weeks that have passed the whole 
story has seemed more absurd. So, recently, 
I went to Grace Moore herself to ask her how 
such stories could ever come about. After all, 
as I had listened in on subsequent Saturdays 
her singing had not only a supreme pitch 
of technical perfection, but it was rich with 
feeling, warm with intimacy, so that when 
she finished with her gracious "My love to 
you all" you felt you had been listening not 
to an artist alone but to a friend who had 
sung to you. 

It has since been proven beyond any 
shadow of a doubt that the original story was 
based on a rumor which was completely 
without any basis in fact — one of those 
stories that are borne by nothing out of no- 
where, take wings to themselves, and gain, 
for a while, artificial lives of their own. I 
thought it needed squelching. Anyone with 
ears to hear could, of course, do the squelch- 
ing for himself. But since it had taken form 
in words, I felt that it ought to be killed in 
the same way, and that Miss Moore was the 
person who could best supply me with the 

She had just finished recording the songs 
for her new Columbia picture, "I'll Take Ro- 
mance" — songs which will prove to picture 
fans what the air waves have already proven 
to radio fans — that they are in no danger of 
losing the joy of her singing, that her voice 
is riper, fuller, more dramatic than it has 
ever been. 

"How do these stories start?" she cried, 
her blue eyes clouded. "I can't understand 
it. First thing I knew, letters came pouring 
in to me and my managers, wanting to know 
if there was any truth in it. I'd have liked 
to sit down and answer them all myself. 
But you can't answer a flood. I'd have liked 

An upbringing in the Tennessee 
hills and a memorable trip to 
Europe played a part in mould- 
ing Grace Moore's voice and 
life. Right, the star with Stuart 
Erwin in "I'll Take Romance" 

to climb up to the top of the world and 
shout, 'no.' But I didn't know where to look 
for the top of the world," she laughed 
through her distress. "That's the trouble 
with rumors. You can't fight them. They're 
so insidious. All I could do was sing which, 
after all, was the best answer, I suppose." 

I HE baseless rumor seemed to have started 
when Miss Moore, after making her last pic- 
ture, canceled a number of concert engage- 
ments in order to recover fully from an at- 
tack Qf the flu contracted while she was in 
the midst of production. 

She flung her hands out in a little gesture 
of helplessness. "But singers cancel engage- 
ments right and left when they have good 
cause. They don't wait till they've lost their 
voices — what fools they'd be! — they do it to 
protect their voices. 

"I had the flu, just the plain, simple little 
influenza germ, like anybody else, that can 
make you so miserable you don't want to 

talk, let alone sing. But I was making a pic- 
ture and, flu or no flu, I had to go on making 
it. I finished it with a temperature of 103. 
Of course, I was hoarse. Of course, I was 
worn out. Of course, I had to cancel my con- 
cert engagements. Assume a lost voice with 
every broken date, and there wouldn't be 
any voices left in the world." 

Yes, Grace Moore did lose her voice once. 
She'd told the story herself as a warning to 
young singers. "I not only couldn't sing. 
For six months I wasn't allowed to open my 
mouth for so much as a whisper. That's per- 
( Continued on page 85) 





Don Ameche: actor, singer, radio star, who rides as 
he lives — hard, earnestly and with grit. His role 
•n "In Old Chicago" is proof of his craftsmanship 



On the set she breaks all traditions of the theater by whistling 
constantly and admitting that she likes visitors. Off the set she 
shows up the glamour queens by being just Ginger Rogers, a 
little girl with freckles and an astounding appetite. In her free 
moments, since she's not a tea hound, she performs dexterously 
on the tennis court; on occasion, since she's a businesswoman, she 
can stamp down just as dexterously, if not quite so gracefully, 
on the studio's argumentative carpet — with proper results 



1 g I 3 - 1 g 3 7 


"The good old days" — it's a well-known phrase. Our 
files of those same old days yielded some sights 
that will put an end, for all time, to the boasting 
females of that famous generation. Top row: a 
velvet bathing suit with ruffles of taffeta "for beach 
purposes only"; a natty tennis costume that's a far 
cry from the shorts our movie queens wear today; 
high pointed shoes worn with a "simple little eve- 
ning gown." "Our Mary" in a "useful" frock of 
navy serge which Madame Lanvin has made "orna- 
mental" as well; a flapper's ball dress — the coy lace 
petticoat and those "Baby Louis" heels give it the 
necessary umph; plain but rich, Norma Talmadge's 
satin bathing suit with tasseled knickers. Second row: 
beauty unadorned — Mabel Normand in an unpreten- 
tious afternoon frock. Half socks were daring, es- 
pecially with a "one-piece" bathing suit; "Viola Dana 
plays a fast game" — in this tennis costume? Black 
and white checked motif for action in a pool; "a 
beach dress" (!) — just purple brocaded velvet with 
batik cape. Fur for richness, spats for warmth and 
cut-out shoes for vanity — that's Anita! Bottom: 
the hose on Bebe Daniels floored us; a new idea was 
Lois' looped ribbon "taking the place of summer 
fur"; "a novelty," this black and white "slip-on" dress 
so perfect for golf. Why men went wrong — Phyllis 
Haver. Billie's all set for a California blizzard. 
Off in a cloud of dust — chic motorist Mae 




Pearl White 

Mary Pickford 

Constance Talmadge 

Norma Talmadge 

Viola Dana 

Lila Lee 

Anita Stewart 

Claire Windsor 

Gloria Swanson 

Eleanor Boardman 


w—' flU 




a^ ■ 

Top, left to right: Claire Windsor — streamline, 1923 
version. Gloria, in stripes, sits on that new Conti- 
nental fad — "the seat cane"; just a satin sport dress 
for Eleanor — the shoe buckles give it that "dressy" 
touch. The instigator of the "frantic scramble" for 
those dazzling Russian boots — Pola Negri; the Brent 
allure of a bandeau, a fan and a curve; Garbo, ex- 
ponent of the "strictly tailored" mode — with bulges; 
the dramatic splendor of a little number for the rain, 
complete with high boots, patent-leather bag, dog- 
handled umbrella. A coy glimpse of the lingerie 
era — Alice White; chic (and shapeless) is this dress 
with a pleated ruffle dangling demurely above 
dimpled knees. Second row: the s. a. of flapper 
Clara Bow — two-piece hand-blocked allure with 
"spit curl" trimming. The "Letty Lynton" dress, the 
perfect example of what made Joan Crawford the 
ideal of all Charleston dancing daughters in America 

Greta Garbo 

Carmel Myers 

Alice White 

Alice White 

Right: that slim long-waisted effect was Lil's, but no- 
body has ever taken her place as the "best. dressed 
woman on the screen" because . . . even then she 
wore styles (note her beach costume) as modern as 
today's. Bottom: Marlene shocked old ladies (they 
didn't know she was concealing hips) when she ap- 
peared in man's attire— overcoat, tuxedo, hat, scarf, 
shoes — complete; the back-to-nature movement — 
the boyish type, freckles and all — dashing Katharine 
proves personality a victor over make-up; Norma 
sports the one-eyed coiffure and lets the curves take 
care of themselves. Now flip back the page to the 
tennis and bathing-suit costumes of 1914 and com- 
pare them with the 1937 girls, Virginia and Jean, 
whose sport togs are not for show purposes only. 
We blush for them, they blush for usl Sloe-eyed 
glamour with a wallop — Carole Lombard; and so 
evolves our 1937 charm — Kay's gilded flower does it 

Lilyan Tashman 

Lilyan Tashman 

6 yn*\ 



Irene Dunne 

Jon Hal 

Countess di Frasso 

Cary Grant 

Fay Wray 

"Tovarich" star and director — Claudette Colbert and Anatole Litvak 
Loretta Young, Louella Parsons and Irene Dunne snapped on the stairs 

Bridgers — Kay Francis and the hostess' best friend, Connie Bennett 
Bride Miriam Hopkins goes hilarious over Ivan Lebedeff's best story 





Romantic bliss (upper 
right): Cary Grant 
and Phyllis Brooks, 
Loretta Young and 
Joe Mankiewicz. Do- 
mestic happiness 
(right): Harmon Nef 
son and wife Bette 
Davis with Michael 
Brooke looking on 

Drama in her bare feet, stringy hair 
via the sprinkling can method — these 
our exponent of allure goes for in 
typical Lombard fashion. She'll show 
her legs (and nice ones, too) and don 
an ice bag with aplomb. She'l 
beef a bit and scowl if necessary, for 
dignity is dropped when Bill Well- 
man directs Carole and Freddie 
March in "Nothing Sacred," the 
Selznick cinema in which glam- 
our, with much gusto, goes pf-f-f-t 

J!. I L Y G R U P Mr. and Mrs. H. W. Powell and their 
son William, in the first picture taken together since fame and the family 
S a .r e vA/!° ame s V non y mous - He ' s Wil 'ie to his mother but his father calls him 
Bill. Wherever he lives, he makes arrangements for his parents to be near 
h.m. When he had a mansion in Beverly Hills they lived in a little house on the 
grounds. Now he's in a smaller place— but the family still lives near by 

YOUNG MOTHER Frances Dee, normal 
American coed, who through hard work, luck and a young tal- 
ent became a star. An actress marked for perfection, she 
lives life fully as the wife of Joel McCrea, the mother of 
two sons. Hers is a foolproof formula: round-eyed ingenu- 
ity, firm-chinned zeal, a wedding ring she wears always 





As » 

.■■■• ?! 

Resplendent with crown jewels, im- 
perial dignity and regal honor; rife 
with expert gaiety, adroit wit and 
sophisticated charm is this edition 
of a famous Continental comedy 
about an impoverished royal Rus- 
sian couple reduced to domestic 
service. Claudette Colbert, as 
Duchess Tatiana, handles milk bot- 
tles and tiara with impartial effi- 
ciency; Charles Boyer, Prince Mi- 
kail, is courteous to bearded inn- 
keeper Montagu Love, competent 
in teaching his young bourgeois 
master, Maurice Murphy, the gen- 
teel art of fencing. Anatole Litvak, 
directing Colbert in the mastery of 
the broom and Commissar Rath- 
bone in the approved manner of 
the Russian scowl, is making this a 
cinema worthy of its legitimate 
and popular Broadway ancestor 



Back in 1917 Mary Pickford played "Rebecca of Sunny- 
brook Farm" with golden curls hanging down her back. 
The modern Rebecca captures her world-famous flyaway 
curls with two ribbons, — thereby graduating with honors 
from the little girl class to the beatific one of young lady- 
hood. The new coiffure was set by her favorite and only 
hairdresser — Mrs. Temple. With it all, Shirley's still a 
pony rider, collector of autogra phs, wit of the set (page 4 1 ) 

What you don't know, won't hurt 
you— on the other hand, life can't be 
dull if what you do know is news 


NELSON EDDY has made a determined ef- 
fort to throw off the shadow of bad publicity 
that attended him on his concert tours. In- 
stead of complaining of pursuing women, 
Eddy himself is doing a first-class job of pur- 
suing. In fact, Eddy's various reported 
romances are all a concentrated effort on the 
singer's part to do a complete rightabout- 
face and be a jolly good fellow if it kills him. 
For the first time in his life he's making the 
night club rounds and entertaining the 
amazed audiences with impromptu singing 
that goes on and on into the cold dawn. 

His clowning on the "Rosalie" set pro- 
voked director Van Dyke to remark he 
wished Eddy would go climb back into his 
shell. Even the M-G-M commissary has pro- 
vided a locale for "the new Eddy" monkey- 
shines. At a birthday celebration in the din- 
ing room, Nelson, with cake frosting from 

ear to ear, proceeded to astonish diners with 
more of his out-in-the-open clowning. His 
rushing from one pretty girl to another was 
recently climaxed when he became official 
guide and escort to Hedy LaMarr, former 
"Ecstasy" girl. 


OHIRLEY appears minus her famous curls 
for the first time in her career. For "Rebec- 
ca of Sunnybrook Farm" she ties her hair 
back in two little bunches, one over each ear. 

The Raymond Scott quintette, the most 
sensational band in town, has written words 
and music for Shirley's songs in this pic- 
ture. They are hot. They are fast. And 
how Rebecca gets around them is one for 
Zanuck to worry over, not us. 

When director Allan Dwan accidentally 
burped on the set, Shirley regarded him sym- 

pathetically saying, "What's the matter? 
Your shoes too tight?" 

She insists everyone on the set wear paper 
clips to designate they are Shirley Temple 
"G-Men." This was inspired by G-Man 
Hoover's visit to her set. 


Vv E'VE been wondering in a mild sort of 
way if the romantic split between Merle 
Oberon and David Niven would make any 
difference in the friendship of David and 
Norma Shearer, who is Merlie's closest 

It hasn't. Since David's return from Eng- 
land, he has been Norma's escort at parties, 
dancing with her constantly and escorting 
her home. 

We're glad, and we bet Merlie is too, that 
at least the three of them can be friends. 
Which reminds us of something David said 
about Merle, recently. He was telling of 
seeing her in London and he said, "For the 
first time, my heart didn't stop at the sight 
of her." 

That's how he knew the romance was over. 
It's how they both knew. 

For further proof that the status quo of 
the Shearer-Niven friendship has been main- 
tained, turn back to page 33 and look at the 
picture of David and Norma. 



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Unique party-givers — these Jack 
Oakies. Last year it was a "Gone 
with the Wind" party — this season 
an advertising jamboree. "Prez 
Oakie" plugs his radio program 
and Venita makes a charming Scot 


JOAN DAVIS, funny girl out at 20th Cen- 
tury-Fox, is the most popular woman on a 
lot full of such beauties as Alice Faye, June 
Lang, Loretta Young and Leah Ray. She 
never eats lunch with less than six handsome 
men, including directors and writers, and 
even has a waiting list three days ahead. On 
the set she is constantly surrounded by hand- 
some swains. 

So we tapped one of them on the shoulder 
the other day and asked why. Here's his 

"Because, since Joan has no beauty to fuss 
over, primp over, worry over, her mind is 
free from herself at all times. What we are 
saying is more important to Joan than how 
she arches her brows or twinkles her eye- 
lashes when she replies. 

"Because she sheds movies like a duck 
sheds water, and because she's interested in 
every topic that interests a man." 

Groans went up when Jean Parker 
displayed the lingerie ads of years 
gone-by. Illustrating the slogan of 
a famous tire company were 
Jackie Coogan and Betty Grable 



L " 


Ruthanna Butler represented the 
glitter of Hollywood's famous Troc 
but could be persuaded to make a 
Cook's Tour of Denmark if the Jean 
Hersholts would act as her guides 



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... •• • . 

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•• • • , •• . ••• . • • 


Freddie Bartholomews new salary 

arrangement with M-G-M ($2000 a week, 
poor little boy) which his Aunt Cissy got for 
him by taking the matter to court, has caused 
the parents or guardians of other child stars 
to ask for more money. Young Mr. Tommy 
Kelly, playing Tom Sawyer for Selznick, 
wants a raise at the conclusion of his first 
picture; and even Baby LeRoy is upping his 
price to $100 a day. 


I NOW our fine friend, Walter Winchell, ex- 
plains that he is quitting pictures forever and 
returning to his lost love, Broadway. He 
found movie work too strenuous, even after 
he'd temporarily given up both radio broad- 
cast and column. In the middle of summer, 
when we talked with him, he assured us 
New York was dead and that he would like 
to live the rest of his life in Hollywood; but 
it takes a staunch New Yorker to ignore the 
call when fall comes, and the new shows 
open, and everybody comes back to what 
Manhattanites elegantly call "town." Per- 
haps, when the first heat wave of 1938 comes 
around, W.W. will change his mind again. 


ALLAN JONES, soaring at last to Metro 
stardom, remarked to us the other day that 
no one could possibly know what that baby — 
to come early this month — means to him, and 
to Irene Hervey. Both have been married 
before and both have children of their own. 
Irene's seven-year-old daughter, Gail, lives 
with them; Allan's son goes to a Long Island 
school. But the new Jones heir is something 
both can share, a consolidating tie between 

All in all, the title of Allan's new film, 
"Everybody Sing," is by no means a mis- 
nomer as far as the private life of the Jones' 
family is concerned. 



I HE fact that Ronald Colman is at last free 
— we understand — to marry again puts his 
apparent romance with Benita Hume into 
the important news category. For longer 
than anyone knew, they have known and 
adored each other, but always he has man- 
aged to keep her name out of print in con- 
nection with his own. Now he bothers no 
longer about secrecy, appears with her, ad- 
mits his fondness for her. Watch closely. 

MONTH. . . 

Shirley Temple: Discovered what a pun 
was, pointed at a rooster strutting about the 
set of "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm," said, 
"There's a real aroostercrat." Her brother, 
Jack, got a third assistant-directorship on the 
20th Century-Fox lot, which makes the third 
Temple on that studio's pay roll. Shirley is 
making plans for a world tour, if the wars 
are over by next summer. 

Clark Gable: Has been going about occa- 
sionally with other gals besides Carole Lom- 
bard, according to reports; has lost weight 
and looks more magnificent than ever; is 
living on the Rex Ingram ranch in San Fer- 
nando Valley. 

Fred Astaire: Will go to London at last — to 
visit his titled sister there. He has hesitated 
a long while over this decision. 

Ginger Rogers: Has been doing her own 
splashing around in the freezing waters of 
Big Bear Lake instead of asking a double to 
do it. Remarks, "I can take it but it's a lit- 
tle hard of them to call the picture, 'Having 
Wonderful Time.' " There is a rumor that 
if husband Lew Ayres wants a divorce, she 
will give him one. 

Robert Taylor: Has been living in a country 
place outside of London. Tossed a cigarette 
butt away, a group of women fans made a 
dash for it, and the British papers said 
naughty things about him. Has been send- 
ing messages to Barbara Stanwyck by re- 
turning friends, who couldn't deliver them 
because she is strictly in hiding. Very un- 
happy in England. He will be home by 

Joan Crawford: Bought theater tickets for 
all the New York stage hits before she left 
with Mr. Tone for the East. She redecorated 
her Brentwood house, discovered that she 
would keep her weight down by running a 
mile every morning. Franchot turned down 
the lead in "Jezebel" to go with her to New 

Claudette Colbert: Bought a new ermine 
coat and started "Bluebeard's Eighth Wife." 

Jeanette MacDonald: Denies that Gene 
Raymond has been signed by Metro to star 

Anita Stewart, glamour girl of the 
silent days, arrived with her hus- 
band, George Converse, hiding 
behind a penguin suit. Recog- 
nize the cigarette they represent? 

The latest twosome — Cesar Romero 
and Sonja Henie (top) dining at the 
Troc. Mr. and Mrs. Gary Cooper 
Trocadering for the first time 
since Maria Veronica's debut 

with her in pictures; denies that they will 
work together for at least two years because 
both have commitments; allowed him to 
teach her all the riding tricks she must know 
for "Girl of the Golden West." 

Gary Cooper: Has discovered, to his dis- 
may, that he is one of the first he-man film 
stars to set a clothes style for women. His 
Twelfth Century Chinese gowns in "Marco 
Polo" are scheduled as a new vogue. He has 
taken his wife, Sandra, to night clubs to cele- 
brate his new little daughter's well-being, 
and has forsaken his usual silent demeanor 
for voluble camaraderie with all and sundry. 

Jane Withers: Is still annoyed because 
"Heidi," originally bought for her, was given 
to Shirley Temple; is reported to want a 
raise in salary; has been refused by her 
mother the privilege of going to the movies 
for quite a time, as a disciplinary measure. 
Reason for the latter: while the electricity 
was cut off in her house she turned the heat 
on; the electrically controlled pilot light was 
out, of course, so the house filled with gas 
and almost asphyxiated the entire family. 


INTERESTING things about the marriage of 
Betty Grable to Jackie Coogan, once "The 
Kid," are: 

(Continued on page 70) 










• j 

Do you know why Goldwyn is 
spending $2,000,000 to make his 
"Follies" in color? Vera Zorina, 
ballet dancer, is one reason 


Columnist Louella Parsons, hitherto read 
but not seen, is jittery in her "Hollywood 
Hotel" role of Columnist Louella Parsons 

Mrs. Mauch was very nervous one 
day on the set of "Penrod and 
His Twin Brother." When the 
scene ended she confessed why 

N W 

"Publicity!" you say when you hear amaz- 
ing reports. This reporter shows you how 
to distinguish studio fiction from fact 


DO you know what studios do to make 
sure that their new foreign finds will 
have what the censors delicately refer 
to as glamour? Or what Cary Grant said 
when he found himself in the same scene 
with a leopard, as well as Katharine Hep- 
burn? Or whether the headlines about Wal- 
lace Beery's shooting himself on a movie set 
were just a publicity stunt? Or whether 
Mae West gives away, between scenes, the 
same brand of lusty wit she sells to the 
camera? Or why it has taken Walt Disney 
three years to make one feature-length car- 

Follow us, and we'll all find out together. 

M-G-M looks like a good place to start. 
M-G-M, among other things, boasts the big- 
gest movie set since "Ben Hur," many long 
Hollywood years ago. It was built for "Rosa- 
lie," costarring Eleanor Powell and Nelson 
Eddy. It is a great circular plaza in the 
mythical kingdom of Romanza of which 
Eleanor is Princess. 

Here, after Director W. S. Van Dyke puts 
900 extras in their places and Albertina 
Rasch drapes her dancing girls languorously 
on some steps in front of the camera, we see 
a festival in full swing. 

Tonight, the stars aren't shining. This is 
Ilona Massey's night. Ilona is M-G-M's new- 
est reason for superlatives. Young, blonde, 
curvacious, Hungarian, with an operatic 
voice, she even has Van Dyke going on 
record as a prophet. In his clipped, brusque 
way, he says, "Watch her. In two years, 
she'll top Garbo and Dietrich." 

We watch her start at the top of the flight 
of steps and walk down, singing a gypsy song 
of spring and love. In the foreground, she 
passes among the undraped, luscious Rasch 

girls. And she compares. In fact, she stands 
out. They are in white; she is in black. And 
the skirt of her gown is diaphanous. We see 
why Van Dyke mentions her in the same 
breath with Dietrich. 

Singing, looking exotic and walking grace- 
fully down a flight of steps all at the same 
time is no easy assignment, even for a Mas- 
sey. "One-Take" Van Dyke takes this scene 
three times. Then, when he calls "Cut," he 
calls for Madame Rasch. We see her ad- 
vance to Ilona. For the "still" picture of the 
scene, she instructs Ilona how to poise her 
legs — for glamour's sake. 

/AFTER one glimpse we decide it is more 
discreet to go to see "Bad Man of Brim- 
stone," starring Wallace Beery and Virginia 
Bruce and unveiling another new find, Den- 
nis O'Keefe. Tall and self-contained, he may 
make you think of Gary Cooper. He did us. 

"Bad Man of Brimstone" is the first of a 
series of glorified Westerns which will play 
first-run theaters. The crux of the plot of 
this one is that Wally, a two-gun hellion from 
'way back, is the boy's father, and wants to 
help him, but never wants the boy to know. 

We find Wally, lying on a cot, behind a 
large screen outside his portable dressing 
room. A nurse is changing the dressing on 
his wound. Wally, with a grim grin, shows 
us the wound. It is no publicity stunt. It is 
an ugly hole, bone-deep, four inches above 
his left kneecap. His gun caught in the 
holster, discharged, fired a blank cartridge 
into his leg. He says now, "It's bad enough 
when somebody else shoots you. But when 
you shoot yourself, that's a hell of a note." 

His trouser leg is zippered along the inner 
seam, as is his cowhide boot, to simplify his 
getting into costume. Painful as it is for him 
to move around, he is bursting with pride at 
being back at work after nine days in the 
hospital. His M. D. said it would be a month. 

We watch him in a scene with Lewis Stone 
in which he opens a door, enters a room, 
sprawls in a chair, then rises. He stumbles, 
entering the door, on tha first try. Director 
Ruben misses a heartbeat. But on the second 
try, Wally delivers. And it's lucky the story 
is laid in hot country. His perspiration from 
the pain he is experiencing can pass for the 
hot-country kind. 

On a near-by set, we see Allan Jones start- 
ing his first starring picture, "Everybody 
Sing." He plays the part of a young immi- 
grant who comes to America to sing and can't 
get work except as a cook — in the home of a 
zany family headed by Reginald Owen and 
Billie Burke, who have Lynne Carver and 
Judy Garland for daughters, and Fanny 
Brice for a maid. Fanny, long a fixture of 
the Ziegfeld Follies, is back in films. 

The setting is a large- kitchen. Allan, sit- 
ting moodily at a table, asks Fanny, "Why 
don't you ever think of love?" Her eyes nar- 
row. She demands, "What am I — iron? Who 
don't think of love? Morning, noon and 
night. Especially" — she rolls her eyes elo- 
quently — "night." She launches into a rhap- 
sodic description of one Boris, and what he 
had taught her about Life and Love. "And" 
— again that sidelong look — "did I loin!" She 
adds, wistfully, "Boris had everything. In- 
cluding a wife and two children." 

Reginald Owen, one comic amused by 
another (a rare tribute!), is practically roll- 
ing off his chair as we tiptoe out, on our way 
to 20th Century-Fox and the set of "Love 
and Hisses," costarring Simone Simon and 
those all-in-fun feudists, Walter Winchell 
and Ben Bernie. 

rERHAPS word has seeped over the inter- 
studio grapevine that the skeptical Press is 
on its way here. Anyway, the first sound we 
hear as we step on the set is singing. Femi- 
nine singing, of Class A caliber. We round a 
piece of scenery and see — not a loudspeaker, 
not a singing double, but Simone herself, en- 
tertaining the company between scenes. 

This classifies as news. Simone, the spit- 
fire who couldn't get along with anybody, is 
now getting along with everybody. Part of 
the credit goes to Director Sidney Lanfield. 
Part of it goes to Producer Gene Markey. 
(There's a romance, at least at this writing.) 
The rest of it apparently goes to whoever re- 
membered that in Paris she used to sing. 

We watch her do a scene with Dick Bald- 
win, handsome young newcomer. The script 
calls for her to slap him — hard. The first two 
"takes" don't satisfy Lanfield. The ex-spit- 
fire is pulling her punch. Lanfield begs her 
to "let go." She looks doubtfully at Dick. 
He's willing. She "lets go." And nearly 
knocks him down. What we wonder is: can 
fifty million Frenchwomen be that strong? 

Practically next door, Shirley Temple is 
making a picture entitled "Rebecca of Sunny- 
brook Farm." In case you wonder how Shir- 
ley could be playing Rebecca at her age, she 
isn't. A new story has been wrapped around 
the old title. A story about a young orphan 
who wins a radio singing contest then can't 
(Continued on page 74) 

The closed Hepburn set was 
opened to Photoplay. The whoio 
visit was a revelation — as was that 
speech of Cary Grant's when he 
had to work with a leopard 



• SECOND HONEYMOON— 20th Century-Fox 

THE name Tyrone Power and the term "swell" pic- 
' ture are fast becoming synonymous. This de- 
lightful film is another case in point. It's charming 
and amusing, utterly romantic and well dressed. 
The performances are good. The direction is excel- 

You aren't asked to worry your head over the 
story. Tyrone is a playboy who comes to Miami 
and there meets Loretta Young his ex-wife. She 
has remarried and the new husband, Lyle Talbot, 
seems suddenly dopes against Tyrone's flashing per- 
sonality. Loretta and Tyrone find they're still in 
love and then comes chaos. Stu Erwin and new- 
comer Marjorie Weaver form a hilarious secondary 
team. Watch Weaver's star rise, by the way. She 
has great ability and a most engaging manner. 

• THE BARRIER— Paramount 

HEX BEACH'S dramatic story of men who came 
^ to Alaska during gold rush days to escape sins 
they had committed in The States — and of romances 
which flourished in this crude but beautiful wilder- 
ness — retains considerable interest in this, its latest 

Jean Parker is the supposed half-breed who mar- 
ries James Ellison, an army lieutenant; she is really 
the white daughter of gambler Otto Kruger. Leo 
Carrillo gives the outstanding performance as 
Poleon, trapper and self-appointed guardian of Miss 
Parker. Robert Barrat has unusual dramatic oppor- 
tunities in exceptionally long close-ups and wins 
applause by his finely tempered handling of diffi- 
cult scenes. Kruger seems a bit miscast but is a 
likeable rogue. You'll like the scenery. 


A Re vi ew 
of the New Pictures 


* PORTIA ON TRIAL— Republic 

* THE HURRICANE— Goldwyn-United Artists 

r VEN Metro officials were reportedly astonished 
*— when this football picture, intended as a minor 
production, turned out to be a hit. Credit is due 
primarily to the fine performances of the three boys 
around whom the story is centered: Jimmy Stewart, 
Robert Young and Tom Brown. 

Brown's background is one of wealth and society; 
Young is an unambitious but excellent fullback who 
has bought his way from university to university 
by his gridiron ability; Stewart is a former Navy 
fireman. Brought together as roommates at An- 
napolis, they adjust gradually to life and to each 
other. Bob gets himself into trouble and learns 
that the group is more important than the individ- 
ual. Assisting with fine performances are Lionel 
Barrymore, Billie Burke, and Florence Rice. 

CHAKESPEARE'S heroine could not have been 
^ more graciously persuasive nor imbued with a 
fiercer zeal for justice than Frieda Inescort in this 
engrossing courtroom story based on a mother love 
angle — but not too maudlin about it. Our modern 
Portia is a criminal lawyer who specializes in de- 
fending downtrodden women. Jo/ui Condon, mil- 
lionaire newspaper owner, is her bitter enemy, but 
she shows unusual sympathy for his grandson re- 
cently returned from England. He is in reality 
her own son. When her ex-husband, Earle Condon, 
is murdered by his English mistress (Heather 
Angel) Portia's bizarre but convincing defense of 
the girl by revealing her own past humiliations at 
Condon'^ hands is the climax of the drama. Walter 
Abel and Ruth Donnelly are outstanding. 


AM Baba Goes to Town 

The Barrier 



The Hurricane 

Live, Love and Learn 

Merry-Go-Round of 1938 

Navy Blue and Gold 

Portia on Trial 

Second Honeymoon 

WITH a wind-machine for a star and half the 
Pacific for a set, Samuel Goldwyn and Director 
John Ford have concocted a stunning and thrilling 
spectacle of adventure and love in the South Seas. 
Throughout the story one mood prevails: that of ap- 
proaching disaster; and when it comes, in the form 
of a hurricane, the screen records an awe-inspiring 
fury of sound and sight. 

This is essentially the story of a great and endur- 
ing love between two mentally uninvolved natives, 
played by Jon Hall and Dorothy Lamour. Hall, who 
works as first mate on one of the boats that cruise 
from Haiti, marries his Island princess and then is 
unjustly imprisoned for six months because of a cafe 
brawl. The harsh treatment he receives and his 
longing to be with his wife lead him to attempt 
escape again and again; each try piles additional 
years to his sentence. When finally, in a hair-rais- 
ing sequence, he does manage to get loose, he is 
hunted ruthlessly until at last the hurricane comes, 
wiping away his world but also the petty need for 
his punishment. 

Hall is staunchly handsome but fortunately not 
beautiful. In this, his debut, he shows definite abil- 
ity and screen poise as well as most of his excellent 
anatomy. He handles his rigorous role with believ- 
able ease. Raymond Massey as a vicious French 
governor, Mary Astor as his wife, C. Aubrey Smith 
as a priest and Thomas Mitchell as a rum-soaked 
doctor all are well cast. Miss Lamour is exotic. 




Greta Garbo in "Conquest" 
Charles Boyer in "Conquest" 

Leo Carrillo in "The Barrier" 
Robert Barrat in "The Barrier" 

Robert Montgomery in "Live, Love and Learn" 
Rosalind Russell in "Live, Love and Learn" 
Robert Benchley in "Live, Love and Learn" 

Shirley Temple in "Heidi" 
Jean Hersholt in "Heidi" 

Jon Hall in "Hurricane" 

Bert Lahr in "Merry-Go-Round of 1938" 

Jimmy Savo in "Merry-Go-Round of 1938" 

Mischa Auer in "Merry-Go-Round of 1938" 

Billy House in "Merry-Go-Round of 1938" 

Jimmy Stewart in "Navy Blue and Gold" 

Robert Young in "Navy Blue and Gold" 

Tom Brown in "Navy Blue and Gold" 

Tyrone Power in "Second Honeymoon" 
Marjorie Weaver in "Second Honeymoon" 

* MERRY-GO-ROUND OF 1938— Universal 

HUT six comedians of different types in one picture, 
and the result is usually a mess. In this case, the 
show is a good one. It's composed of much unorig- 
inal hokum, a few good tunes, a nice clean romance 
between singers Joy Hodges and John King, and a 
variety of mad horseplay. 

You can ignore the bit of story about a group of 
vaudeville troupers who take over the task of bring- 
ing up an orphan. It's enough that Bert Lahr does 
his familiar "Woodman" number with fervor; that 
Jimmy Savo proves again his mastership of panto- 
mime; that Beefy Billy House is at his best. In ad- 
dition, there's Mischa Auer (again), Alice Brady 
and Louise Fazenda. "Six of One, Half a Dozen of 
the Other" and "More Power to You" are good 
songs. If you like hysterical hilarity, see it. 


TEAMED once more, this time in a smart and wise- 
' cracking comedy, Robert Montgomery and Rosa- 
lind Russell complement each other nicely in a 
story which idealizes art for art's sake and scoffs 
at filthy lucre. Bob plays the poor young artist 
who marries Rosalind, an heiress. Together they 
seek success and eventually Bob earns it on the 
merit of his work; but fame and scheming Helen 
Vinson induce him to paint flattering portraits for 
exorbitant fees, live beyond his means. It is faith- 
ful and boozy Robert Benchley, as the ever-present 
friend, who rights things after "Roz" leaves Bob. 

There is much slapstick, but on the whole the 
romance is tender and moving, the performances of 
Montgomery and Miss Russell are superior, and 
Benchley 's interpretation of a rum-pot is excellent. 


* HEIDI— 20th Century-Fox 

* ALI BABA GOES TO TOWN— 20th Century-Fox 

IT COST $3,000,000, and it's worth it. "Conquest," 
'in which the magnificent Garbo and the brilliant 
Charles Boyer star together for the first time, is 
history and pageantry and romance crowded into 
two hours of great entertainment. 

Boyer, as Napoleon, creates the most vivid por- 
trait of a famous man since Muni's "Zola," and in 
many scenes out-glitters every other member of 
the cast. This is the story of Bonaparte's genuine 
and lasting love for a Polish countess named Marie 
Walewska, a great patriot. She is married to an 
old but charming nobleman. When Napoleon offers 
the freedom of Poland in return for her favors, 
she agrees, and from the affair grows an undying 
devotion which lasts for ten years. Madame 
Walewska waits for him while he is away at war, 
remains faithful when he marries a Hapsburg em- 
press, bears his son, and offers him her love even 
after Waterloo, when he is too tired and too beaten 
to want it. 

Boyer at last has been given a role worthy of his 
tremendous talent; Miss Garbo molds the subtle 
and fascinating character of Walewska into a mil- 
lion moods; Reginald Owen's Talleyrand is his best 
performance. Other superlative portrayals are con- 
tributed by Henry Stephenson, Maria Ouspenskaya 
and Dame May Whitty. Production and direction 
are of the finest quality; the story is told without 
sentimentality, as a straightforward document of a 
tremendous era, crowded with great personalities. 

a FAVORITE with most children is the tender 
f\ story of Heidi, a little orphan who brings sun- 
shine into the cloudy lives of others. There could 
not have been a better choice for the role than 
Shirley Temple; no longer a baby, poised and as- 
sured as an actress, but still retaining her famous 
warmth and charm, the greatest little star of them 
all has made this her best picture to date. Twen- 
tieth Century has spared nothing in production or 
in the supporting cast, so that there is almost no 
fault to find with any portion of the film. 

Shirley, in this, is brought by a vicious aunt to 
live with her grandfather, a dour and embittered 
old recluse played by Jean Hersholt. He has for- 
saken the world and God alike because of a disap- 
pointment his son caused him; but by her forthright 
manner and innocent sweetness Shirley induces him 
to soften his attitudes. Then the aunt reappears, 
snatches the child away to be the companion of a 
little crippled girl in Frankfort. Shirley wants to 
help the unfortunate girl but primarily she longs 
for her beloved grandfather. Meanwhile he has 
come searching for her — and this becomes a chase, 
fraught with excitement and suspense. 

Marcia Mae Jones does excellent and convincing 
work as the rich cripple, Mary Nash is magnificent 
as the horrid governess, and Arthur Treacher does 
his butler routine. There are two numbers for 
Shirley, ingeniously included: "In Our Little 
Wooden Shoes," and a charming minuet. 

TDDIE CANTOR returns after a long absence 
*— from the screen to make one of the most con- 
troversial pictures of the year. In "Ali Baba Goes 
to Town" the satire on Mr. Roosevelt's New Deal is 
so sharp, so pointed, as to alienate those Democrats 
who do not possess a sense of humor. Aside from 
its political implications, this is a rollicking and very 
funny piece, well staged and crammed with original 

Cantor plays, with his usual vitality, a tramp who 
discovers a location company filming an Oriental 
picture in a desert camp. He wrangles a job as an 
extra but falls asleep during a take and dreams he 
is really in ancient Bagdad. This old town is in 
dreadful shape: the people are hungry, and Roland 
Young, the Sultan, is sorry but doesn't know what 
to do about it. Eddie suggests that where he comes 
from there is a system of government called the 
New Deal, which might work here. Thenceforth the 
picture becomes a frantic and magnificently impos- 
sible hash, in which Cantor introduces a Soak-the- 
Rich program, nuisance taxes, and even holds a 
presidential election. Meanwhile Louise Hovick, the 
Sultana, is plotting with a prince to grab the throne, 
which leads to a fantastic climax. 

You'll like Tony Martin, June Lang and Virginia 
Field in minor roles; Raymond Scott's band; the 
songs, "I've Got my Heart Set on You," "Swing is 
Here to Sway," and "Laugh Your Way Through 
Life." Cantor is the whole amusing show. 




4 MM 

LOOK OUT, MR. MOTO— 20th Century-Fox 

M 1 

[R. GEORGE ARLISS' latest 18th Century adven- 
tures allow the distinguished proponent of di- 
plomacy the unusual role of a pirate-parson, who 
heads the smuggling activities of a seacoast village. 
When the revenue men interrupt his peaceful if 
lawless pursuits, murders, chases and captures en- 
liven the proceedings. The light romance is carried 
by Margaret Lockwood and John Loder. 


OU'LL enjoy this smart little story of a working 
boy, James Dunn, and a working girl, Whitney 
Bourne, who for the sake of economy share the 
same basement bedroom without ever seeing one 
another. Dunn occupies the room in the day time 
and Whitney at night. Daily the two leave behind 
them carefully planned gags that lead to an amusing 
feud. Eventually they do meet. It's fun. 

OUR little Japanese detective, Mr. Moto, finds 
himself entangled in a mess of silly hokum that 
proves to be too much even for Moto. Into the 
Siamese jungle, where Moto is posing as an arche- 
ologist, come Rochelle Hudson, a spy, and Robert 
Kent and Chick Chandler, newsreel cameramen. Im- 
mediately high treason, murder and intrigue break 
loose with Mr. Moto having to look out for everyone 

45 FATHERS— 20th Century-Fox 



IANE WITHERS goes slapstick in this rowdy com- 
^ edy of an orphan who finds herself adopted by 
an entire New York club. When Jane goes with 
Richard Carle, a club member, to the home of his 
nephew, Thomas Beck, she succeeds in getting her- 
self and all concerned in and out of trouble in grand 
style. The Hartmans, a new comedy team, are a 
standout. Louise Henry contributes effectively. 

THE natural scenic beauty in this far surpasses the 
story of a girl, Irene Hervey, who attempts to fight 
when her favorite fishing haunt is threatened with 
the invasion of industry. Kent Taylor is the young 
engineer who builds a dam despite Miss Hervey's 
protests but saves the situation when he finds a way 
to save the salmon. Kent and Miss Hervey are su- 
perior to the material. The photography is excellent. 

THERE are a lot of thrills in this fast story of a 
' smart-aleck fireman, Dick Foran, who meets his 
match in fire-chief Robert Armstrong. Ann Sheri- 
dan, who plays Armstrong's sister, deserves a share 
of the credit for bringing Foran to his senses. The 
fire scene in which Foran saves Armstrong's life is 
spectacular and breath-taking. You'll like this 
glimpse of a fire company. (Continued on page 90) 

DANGER, LOVE AT WORK— 20th Century-Fox 

COMETIMES the new type of mad comedy so 
^ popular this year goes overboard and has no 
value at all. In this outlandish story Jack Haley is 
a lawyer who tries to get a deed signed by the mem- 
bers of a screwball family. There are a few good 
laughs, Mary Boland is good, Ann Sothern and Ed- 
ward Everett Horton are worthy of mention; but 
there is little or no excuse for most of the action. 




"Happiness to all" is Miriam Hopkins' toast to greet 
the New Year. Her shimmering ensemble of gold 
brocaded lame worn in "Women Have a Way" has 
a Grecian gown partially concealed beneath a snugly 
fitted jacket that is styled with front skirt ful- 
ness and a softly draped bodice held in place at 
the low decolletage with a narrow halter band 


Irene Dunne chooses this three- 
piece ensemble to wear at the 
Santa Anita race track. The slim 
skirt and topcoat are of henna 
woolen and the tailored jacket is 
a tweedy mixture of beige and 
henna. Irene complements this 
suit with a tailored blouse of ivory 
crepe, brown suede gloves, bag 
and low-heeled walking shoes, and 
a henna toque with a gay quill 

The tube silhouette has won enthu- 
siastic approval in Hollywood and 
Irene wears it with grace and 
charm. Cross fox fashions the collar 
and coat banding of her olive- 
green suit which buttons up the 
front with self-covered buttons. 
Brown accessories and a matching 
felt beret complement this suit, 
perfect for dressier wear. Irene 
is now filming "The Joy of Loving" 

The tailored suit assures double duty 
smartness — wear it now under your heavy 
coat, later to greet the spring. Lola Lane, 
appearing in "Hollywood Hotel," selects 
a single-breasted model of men's wear in 
deep olive green and uses the same fabric 
for her brimmed hat. The jacket has a 
straight back, patch pockets and a tab 
fastening on the collar so that it may be 
buttoned high at the neck. -Lola's blouse 
is of ivory crepe with fagoted front panel 

Wendy Barrie chooses a single-breasted 
suit in grey tweed with a shadow stripe of 
white and complements it with a double 
collar, hand-tucked blouse, monogrammed 
grey chiffon kerchief, and a grey suede 
"beanie" (despite the rumor in favor of 
high-crowned hats, Hollywood stars con- 
tinue to wear "beanies." Hyman Fink 
snapped these inserts of Fay Wray wear- 
ing one with a dressmaker suit). Wendy 
is now appearing in "A Girl with Ideas" 

Short sleeves and a rippling skirt make 
Simone Simon's fur and fabric coat (left) 
as new as tomorrow. The softly gathered 
sleeves, front bodice and panels, the deep 
circular back yoke of Safari brown Alaska 
sealskin arouse keen style interest, and 
luxuriously contrast the body of the coat 
which is of beige homespun. The wide silk 
cord belt closes with a massive unique 
gilded buckle. Royer designed the coat 
for Simone to wear in "Love and Hisses" 

Double pockets and surplice 

blouse give Gail Patrick's 

casual street frock of brown 

and beige check an added 

note of style interest. Gilded 

clips fasten the blouse and a 

matching buckle finishes the 

narrow brown suede belt. Her 

shovel-brim hat is of brown felt 

and the same fabric is used for 

the bag she carries. Gail's 

frock was created by Chas. 

Levy, from Beverly Hills 

Omar Kiam designed this 
trim ensemble for Andrea 
Leeds to wear in "The Gold- 
wyn Follies." The frock of 
olive-green crepe is strikingly 
girdled with bright vermilion 
while the soft neckline bow is of 
the dress hue. The single- 
breasted coat with one-button 
closing and exaggerated 
revers is of beige woolen to 
match the off-the-face hat 
Andrea wears so we 






rasHioN . 




With its sunburst tucked skirt taper- 
ing to a smooth band across the 
hips, Jean Muir's Cynara crepe 
dress (left), in black or navy, will 
make its mark at any winter gath- 
ering. Irish crochet type collar and 
cuffs, narrow patent-leather belt 
and self buttons are classic 

In a revolt against printed monot- 
ony, Jean wears a bright chrysan- 
themum print (opposite page, left). 
High draped neckline, short sleeves, 
a self girdle with long fringes ac- 
centing pink or white flowers on 
the brown background are gay 

A trail-blazing print in festive 
colors on black, brown, navy or 
white background is this rough 
crepe dress (above). Its belt of 
varied colored narrow ribbons 
makes a merry note in midwinter 
styles. The short shirred sleeves are 
smartly in the mode of the moment 

The "Backgammon Dress" (oppo- 
site page, right). Darts of skirt and 
blouse, and wood trim of the belt 
suggest the game. Stroock Ankara 
wool in natural, rose mist, lime, 
salmon, ash blue, pine-moss green, 
Panama coral, Azores (turquoise) 




The smart advance PHOTOPLAY 
Hollywood Fashions shown on 
these two pages are available 
to you at any of the department 
stores and shops listed on Page 81 

A cushion-brim felt with multi- 
colored plaid stitching, trimmed 
by a feather and a grosgrain 
band. Middle: a bumper brim 
and a feather in a felt crown, 
with grosgrain binding and band 

A felt pillbox held in place by 
a wide grosgrain bandeau 
that ties in a bow in back. 
The four matching felt gar- 
denias across the front give a 
smart line to the hat's brim 

These three hats, modeled by 
Mary Brian, come in black, 
brown, royal blue, porto red, 
trotteur green, Mayfair grey, 
Sunvalley gold, zinnia rust, 
and the new gridiron red 


To the thrill of winter sports Jean Parker adds the zest 
of novel play clothes. A yoke and waistline inserts 
of white flannel contrast the jumper of her two-piece 
ski suit of black whipcord (above) and a white flannel 
visor cap and brushed angora mittens give practical 
and smart accessory interest. For variety Jean tops 
her ski trousers with a black brushed wool sweater 
(left above) that features a white front and zipper 
closing. A green yarn cap and mittens woven with a 
green and red motif add a note of color. (Left) For 
skating Jean chooses a circular skirt of lime-green 
flannel topped by a waist-length suede jacket of 
darker green. Jean is appearing in "The Barrier" 


I'M going to start right off with my best 
wishes for the happiest New Year you've 
ever had, and also for a very fashionable 

The New Year is so chuck full of new 
promise, new plans and resolutions that one 
just can't rush out to greet it without dress- 
ing up for the occasion, but, if you've given 
your wardrobe as little thought as I have 
during the holiday rush, I'm sure you're 
scrambling now to pep it up with a last min- 
ute freshening. 

New accessories add zest to tired costumes 
— a chic hat with a flower 
on it and, of course, a veil 
(for that feminine and al- 
luring note is one that must 
surely not be omitted) , plus 
striking costume jewelry, 
novel gloves, bags and 

I chanced on Dolores Del 
Rio the other day shopping 
for a hat to add gaiety to a 
black woolen ensemble. She 
finally decided on a black 
felt toque piled high with 
pink carnations (that new 
dusty shade) , and she also 
selected a pair of matching 
pink gloves to duplicate the 
color theme in her costume. 

At the same time, Carole 
Lombard was ensembling 
a toque of violets with 
matching veil and violet 
gloves to wear with a brown 
dressmaker suit. 

Lunching at the Brown 
Derby last week I was fas- 
cinated by Joan Crawford's 
massive multi-strand neck- 
lace and bracelet of coral 
beads as a contrast to an 
all-black outfit — a marvel- 
ous background for this 
fashionable trend of trims. 

On your shopping tours 
for your wardrobe acces- 
sory pick-ups you'll prob- 
ably run across some of 
the new print frocks and if you follow Holly- 
wood's dictates you'll not resist a purchase. 

Ginger Rogers has one of silk jersey (that 
luscious fabric is steadily increasing in im- 
portance because it drapes and moulds to the 
body so beautifully) . The background of 
Ginger's frock is brown, against which color- 
ful little Chinese dolls prance and dance. 
These spirited frocks make cheery contrast 
as they peek from beneath heavy winter 

favorite for evening, and the tubular sil- 
houette will be seen in sports clothes as well 
as in those for daytime. Green, navy, beige 
and gray will be leaders on the spring color 
card. Only a tracery of the glitter of winter 
fashion will be seen, and then only on rare 

Banton has created some stunning clothes 
for Claudette Colbert to wear in "Blue- 
beard's Eighth Wife" and I must tell you 
about a few of them. 

A beltless street frock of sheer green 
woolen, devoid of contrast trim, has a simple 

b PEAKING of brand-new clothes, Travis 
Banton's forecast of coming trends will 
surely interest you. 

In his opinion, 1938 fashions will be the 
most feminine since the gay 90's. Frocks 
will continue to be short, but coats will fall 
slightly below their hemlines. Sheer fabrics 
will gain greater importance and lingerie 
touches will be worked into the body of 
frocks as well as in feminine trims. The full- 
skirted, diaphanous picture gown will be a 

A softly draped cowl outlines the 
back of Shirley Ross" white chiffon 
evening gown which is contrasted by 
choker collar and belt of gold mesh 

magnificence. The slim skirt, fifteen inches 
from the floor, with three-inch side slits, ex- 
tends high up under the bust where it at- 
taches to the blouse (with slight shirrings 
under the bust) which is neatly tailored with 
long, tight sleeves and a U-decolletage out- 
lined by a two-inch, draped band of the dress 
fabric. Claudette fell so in love with this 
frock she had Banton make a duplicate in 
black for her personal wardrobe, to wear 
under her leopard coat. 

Banton uses this same tubular silhouette 
in a suit of Kasha. The finger-tip length 
coat, over a pencil-slim skirt, is banded at 
the hemline with beige fox which narrows 
slightly as it continues up the right front 
panel to meet a matching fur panel continua- 
tion of the collar at the waistline. The left 
side of the fur collar swings surprisingly 
away from the neckline to attach to the 
sleeve at the front midarm. 

Claudette has two charming frocks which 
will be heavenly for spring dancing (and 

grand right now, if you're lucky enough to 
be able to afford a midwinter vacation at a 
sunshine resort) . One, for tea dancing, is of 
white organza printed with black dots the 
size of a quarter in clusters to resemble 
bunches of grapes. It has a full skirt shirred 
to a snugly fitted bodice which has short 
sleeves edged with self-fabric ruffles to match 
the trim of the round, high neckline. 

The other, an evening gown, is styled of 
black tulle and its simplicity is both challeng- 
ing and alluring. Over a low-cut black crepe 
slip Banton places a snug bodice with round, 
high neckline which joins a very full shirred 
skirt that sparkles with silver paillettes the 
size of a dollar, and, as an added note of ro- 
mance, he adds enormous tulle shoulder 
bows that reach to the top of Claudette's 
head. Both of the gowns 
have four-inch self-fabric 
crush girdles. 

Mention of glamorous 

evening gowns reminds me 
that I have a little story to 
tell you about the origin of 
the gown Shirley Ross is 
wearing on this page. 

Director Mitchell Leisen 
of the "Big Broadcast of 
1938" is a firm believer that 
"women should dress to 
please men" (not a bad 
idea) , so he took time out 
to design Shirley's gown in 
a manner that would 
please all mankind. The 
front of the blouse, softly 
draped, is held by the flat 
choker collar of gold. You 
see, Director Leisen feels 
that the less revealing a 
gown, the more alluring, 
which gives us all some- 
thing to think about, as I'm 
sure we've been selecting 
our gowns on the reverse 

Somehow Director Lei- 
sen's remark that women 
should dress to please men 
made me stop and think. 
That theory might work 
wonders in keeping our 
beaux or husbands (and 
heaven knows, as they are 
hard enough to get and keep, we ought to 
try and please their whims) . So why not 
make a list of all the things you've heard 
men ridicule — crazy hats, skirts that are un- 
becomingly short, open shoes, sensation- 
ally extreme silhouettes, red, red nails and 
lips — and omit these trends this coming 

NOW, last but not least, I will tell you 
about a grand dressmaker suit Constance 
Bennett will wear in her new picture, 
"Merrily We Live." 

The skirt, narrow with side slits, and waist- 
length jacket that zips up the front to a col- 
larless neckline are of black sheer woolen. 
The blouse, which attaches to the skirt, is of 
matching woolen in dusty pink. It has short 
sleeves tied with two-tone pink tabs (one 
matching the blouse color and one a deep 
rose) . This dual tone motif is repeated in 
the crush collar that extends over the jacket. 
The frock is belted in dusty pink suede. 


- . 

C"S FACE THE FACTS— Girls, this is big 
news month for you and me. And I'm 
not going to color the facts. Facts and 
faces have already been colored in the new 
Technicolor films. Have you seen "Gold Is 
Where You Find It" or "Nothing Sacred"? If 
you've seen them both, you have two perfect 
examples of what the right make-up means 
to the stars and the color cameras of Holly- 
wood. You've seen how the blonde beauty 
of Carole Lombard is enhanced by correct 
make-up in "Nothing Sacred" and you've 
seen the right make-up for a vivacious bru- 
nette on the piquant face of Olivia de Havil- 

The color camera is a truthful and honest 
mirror of natural-toned beauty. It can 
either make or break a face, and, inciden- 
tally, a heart, for careers depend on natural 
make-up. No longer can defective skins 
and bad features be hidden behind a thick 
yellow paste. Today the screen star must 
be right out in the open. What a chance that 
is for us to study the art of looking natural 
yet beautiful! 

For Technicolor make-up is nothing more 
or less than the everyday street make-up we 
all use — the same fine cosmetics that you and 
I apply every day. And what a lesson in 
rouge, its uses and abuses! Certainly you'd 
laugh if either Olivia or Carole appeared in 
Technicolor with great round circles of bril- 
liant color on her cheeks. Notice how their 
rouge is scarcely perceptible, blended in 
such a way that it gives a faint, colorful glow 
to the skin, rather than a red, exaggerated 

Carole's rouge and lipstick are harmonized 
in color. Her rouge is carefully blended 
across her cheekbones, with no sharp lines 
to show where it ends and begins. Try 
smoothing your rouge on your skin with 
your fingers, as she does, to distribute the 
color evenly and have it fade away softly. 

If you're a true brunette, you can learn 
about the correct colors to use by observing 
how Olivia's vivid coloring is accented by 
the bright rouge and lipstick she wears. 

I went over to see Andrea Leeds on the 
set of "The Goldwyn Follies." Andrea has 
the charming combination of dark-brown 
eyes and light-brown hair. Her powder ex- 

Andrea Leeds (top) finds that color 
films are a school of beauty, for 
naturalness of make-up is requisite 

From a girl of average good looks 
Gloria Dickson (above) became the 
dramatic beauty you see on the left. 
An expert took her in hand and 
taught her the rules of make-up. 
P. S. It's rumored she'll marry him 


actly matches the medium brunette coloring 
of her skin, and her light orange-red lipstick 
and rouge accent the clearness of her com- 
plexion and the brightness of her eyes. An- 
drea is very careful to blend her rouge far 
way from her nose and all the way back to 
her ears, in order to fill out the angular hol- 
lows in her face. 

Zorina, the famous dancer, is also in this 
picture. She is a brunette, too, but her 
coloring is lighter than Andrea's, so her 
make-up has a different color tone. When 
you see "The Goldwyn Follies," besides the 
leads, you'll see twenty-four girls in the bal- 
let numbers. There are thirteen variations 
of coloring among these girls, so seek out one 
whose coloring most closely approximates 
your own, and then see the color of make-up 
that you should be using. Let Technicolor 
films be your own school of beauty. 

SECRET OF SUCCESS— One thing you 
will notice in the make-up used by the stars, 
and it is the secret of a successful make-up. 
It's so important that it really should be writ- 
ten out and pasted on your mirror, right next 
to the snapshot of your current boy friend. 

That is, that make-up should be keyed to a 
basic color tone. The color values should 
harmonize and match each other. In other 
words, if you are using an orange-toned lip- 
stick, your rouge should also be orange-toned 
and your powder should contain warm, yel- 
lowish tints. 

Another thing you must be sure to ob- 
serve is that the stars have different make- 
ups for different color gowns, so that the 
whole ensemble is a perfect blending of color 
and not a clash between, say, an orange dress 
and a bluish-red make-up. It's really worth 
(Continued on page 72) 





Unrecognized by Hollywood stars, unknown 
to the city slickers — yet rival producers read 
Gene Autry's box-office score and weep 

This shy, ingratiating Texan becomes the messiah of a great revival 


MORE women adore him than Clark 
Gable. They write him more love 
letters than they write Robert 

More kids worship him than Shirley Tem- 
ple. His screen voice thrills thousands more 
than Bing Crosby's husky notes, his grin 
cracks more masculine crusts than Jimmy 
Cagney's fists ever cracked, his daring deeds 
are more admired than Errol Flynn's. 

Darryl Zanuck has just laid a cool half 
million on the line for his contract, and had 

it laughed back in his lap. Zanuck wanted 
his magic draw to persuade people to sit 
through Shirley Temple and Eddie Cantor 
and Tyrone Power and Alice Faye — so they 
could see him in the second feature: 

He's the most amazing young man in 
Hollywood — yet not a tenth of Hollywood 
has ever seen him. More than half of the 
beglamoured stars of the upper movie crust 
have never even heard of him — until quite 
lately. Maybe you haven't, either — or maybe 
he's the most notable man in your life. 

Vv HAT Gene Autry means to you depends 
on where you live, for one thing. And on 
how old you are. And whether or not you 
consider yourself "sophisticated." If you 
hang out at Waxahachie, Texas, Tupelo, Mis- 
sissippi, or Moberly, Missouri, chances are, 
man or woman, you're familiar with every 
tenor yodel and bass guitar twang in his 
bag of tricks. You probably sigh to his easy 
Texas drawl and flutter v/hen he unlimbers 
that wide white smile. On the other hand, 
if you dwell in Manhattan's towers or Phila- 
delphia's flats, and hit only the first-run 
houses, then all this may merely hand you 
a querulous and puzzled frown. 

But even that's not so important. You can 
take Gene Autry or leave him. But you 
can't skip lightly over what he is and what 
he's done. He's much too important a gent 
in Hollywood at this moment. 

In fact, Gene Autry is right now the musi- 
cal messiah of a great Hollywood revival — 
the resurrection of Westerns. Westerns 
were about laid out in the black pine box 
three years ago, when he came along. 
They're running all over the place today and 
multiplying like fruit flies. Wherever you 
look new cowboy stars are popping up like 
mushrooms after a rain. And it's all on 
account of Autry. 

I HREE years ago (and a few months, may- 
be) Gene Autry was just a blue-eyed, tow- 
headed six-foot gandy Texan, yodeling out 
a living for himself and his wife on local 
radio stations and an occasional vaudeville 

Five years ago he was an unknown voice 
on a phonograph record, but a voice that 
was outselling the popular recorded boo- 
boos of Bing Crosby three to one. 

Eight years ago he was sitting in tank town 
railroad depots in Oklahoma, Missouri and 
Texas tapping out telegraph messages and 
passing the empty hours making up cowboy 

Eighteen years ago, he dangled his cactus- 
scratched legs from the cattle loading plat- 
form of the Tioga, Texas station, waiting to 
help herd his dad's steers aboard the slow 
train. And while he waited he milled around 
with the older cowpokes and picked up the 
fret changes of the "gitter" and the lonely 
tunes of the range. 

That might seem a dull dish of history to 
pass you at this point, but it planted the 
bonanza that started the Western gold rush 

Because one night in Claremore, Okla- 
homa — you've heard of that place — a home- 
town boy with a maverick shock of grayish 
(Continued on page 84) 


S K AT I N G , 

H R U G H 


THE beautiful blonde girl came out onto 
the deck and stood, wrapped in furs, 
watching the bright-studded fingers of 
New York's towers move slowly closer 
through the evening. The ship was late. 
Tomorrow there would be pictures in the 
papers, and captions, and more copy on the 
sports pages: "Sonja Henie Turns Pro, Visits 
America." Applause in ink. She could see 
the indisputable words at breakfast in the 
morning, and then this would be a reality; 
she would feel secure again. 

But tonight the tense excitement of the 
other passengers, glad with home-coming, 
depressed and frightened her a little. That 
glowing pile there across the harbor, that 
immensity, was stranger this time than it had 
ever been — she approached it as a supplicant, 
saying, "Will you buy my wares? I am a 
good skater; will you pay money to watch 

Four years ago, at the Olympics in 
America, she had been a guest, an amateur 
sportswoman, seeking nothing but fame and 
a medal or two. There was an abundant dif- 
ference now. She thought, I could have 
stopped. I gave up love — I refused the way 
of living a woman should know — for this. 
America holds no brief for skating; I may 
work to empty galleries — For a moment 
she held to the rail, weak with panic. 

I HEN a familiar, brilliant flare blinded her, 
and she turned smiling to face the cameras. 
A tender had brought them: photographers, 
reporters to crowd about her and grin and 
ask flattering questions and to remind her 
once again that she was Sonja Henie, un- 
beaten, beautiful, the friend of kings. 

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said to the 
reporters as though she were really com- 

What happened to Sonja in Holly- 
wood made her decide, once and 
for all, what she wanted from life 

Youth and laughter and love — those were the things 
Tyrone Power gave to Sonja Henie. But there was one 
reason why a romance such as theirs could never last 


In the morning she woke quickly, rang for 
orange juice and the early papers. Sipping 
intermittently from her glass, she flung back 
the pages impatiently, until she found what 
she wanted; then she read with absorption 
the interviews she had given the night before. 
While she was still engrossed there was a 
knock at the door and her mother came in. 

Without looking up Sonja said, "You see? 
It's a friendly country. They're glad I'm here 
— they'll come to my exhibitions." She tossed 
the papers over. "I must get busy." 

Selma Henie made no move to take them, 
but sat quietly on the bed and looked with a 
kind of detached curiosity at her daughter. 
"This is your first day in New York," she 
said finally. "Don't you want to do any of 
the things a normal young girl would do? 
Don't you want to go shopping, and take a 
cab around the city, or just — rest?" 

"I'm not tired," Sonja said absently, rus- 
tling through the Times. "I've plenty of 
clothes — look at the tiny little paragraphs I 
got in this one!" She frowned, reading. 

Selma touched her hand. "You will do as 
you like, anyway. But sometimes you worry 
me. Whom will you see first?" 

"The manager of Madison Square Gar- 
den." Sonja finished the orange juice. "It's 
the largest arena in New York and I expect a 
big audience." 

Mrs. Henie stood up with an air of deci- 
sion. "Well, your father is going with you! 
You're altogether too self-sufficient for such 
a child." 

"I don't need anyone to help me!" 

"It will look better," said Selma; and there 
was finality in her voice. 

An hour later Sonja stood, outraged and 
angry, in a luxurious office listening to the 



The friendship be- 
tween Sonja and Don 
Ameche is a real and 
lasting one — quite 
different from the 
headline romance 
which she shared 
with young Tyrone 

derisive chuckles of the Garden committee. 
Wilhelm Henie stood a pace behind her, 
silent; he was a little miserable about the 
whole situation. Back in peaceful Oslo his 
chair by the fireplace sat empty while he 
• traveled in the shadow of this energetic girl 
— and sometimes he grew tired. He'd been 
right about coming to America, too. These 
men were most discouraging. Well, Sonja 
would have to convince them herself. It was 
her problem. 

She was forthrightly trying to solve it. 
''But my name is famous," she was saying. 
"I'm the world's greatest skater. You know 
it. And the people are interested." 

"My dear young lady," said the commit- 
tee's spokesman, "people are only mildly in- 
terested. America isn't skating-conscious. 
If you were a famous dancer, a notable 
singer — Besides, you want too much. A 

Sonja and Selma, snapped off set dur- 
ing one of Mrs. Henie's daily visits 

reasonable sum, perhaps — but fifty percent 
of the gross receipts!" 

The committee chuckled again. 

"You saw me here in 1932, when I won the 
world's championship in the Garden!" blazed 
Sonja. "You heard the applause!" 

"That was a competition — a different 

"Then I will rent the Garden from you. 
and stage my own show." 

The spokesman shifted uneasily. "That 
would cost you too much, Miss Henie," he 
told her seriously. 

"I can afford it!" 

"I'm afraid you couldn't. . ." And this 
time his tone held an unmistakable signifi- 

She turned, raging but still poised, at the 
door. "I will ask more money when you 
come to me," she said imperiously, and went 
out, followed by the silent Wilhelm. 

DACK at the hotel she faced her parents. 
"It's ridiculous," she told them. "I have no 
time for such nonsense. I must put on ex- 
hibitions and be famous in this country, so 
Hollywood will be interested. I tell you, I 
will be in moving pictures before the year is 
out. Watch me!" 

For once neither Selma nor Wilhelm felt 
strong enough to argue. 

Less than a week later a Madison Square 
Garden talent scout called his employers 
long distance from Hershey, Pennsylvania. 
He had just seen the Garden's newest attrac- 
tion, was even now waiting to interview her 
and offer a contract. Who? Sonja Henie, 
who danced on skates — beautiful, intelli- 
gent, exciting, glamorous, a showwoman of 
the first order. . . What? Absurd: the 
rink in Hershey had turned hundreds away, 
the crowd had gone mad. It was still going 
mad. Well, they could listen then. One 
minute while he got the booth door open — 
there. Hear that? Hear that thunder of 
hoarse shouting and that explosive applause? 
And it was fifteen minutes since she had 
taken her final bow. 

Sonja sat in her Hershey hotel suite the 
next day and grinned wickedly at the Gar- 
den committee, who had come to her. "You 
(Continued on page 86) 





— in the laugh fest of the year. 
"The Awful Truth" dawns on jealous 
husband Cary Grant when he finds 
Alexander D'Arcy, owner of a 
strange derby hat, hiding in the 
logical place — behind the door 

r hotoplay awards the following prizes 
for the best letters received each month: $25 
first prize, $10 second, $5 third, and $1 for 
every other letter published. Photoplay 
reserves the right to use the letters sub- 
mitted in whole or in part. Contributions 
will not be returned. Contributors are 
warned that if letters are copied or adapted 
from previously published material, which 
constitutes plagiarism, they will be prose- 
cuted to the full extent of the law. Letters 
submitted to this magazine should not be 
submitted to any other publication. Ad- 
dress: Boos &• Bouquets, Photoplay, 122 
East 42nd St., New York City. 

FIRST PRIZE— $25.00 


ONE of the most poignant scenes ever 
to be etched in my memory is the 
scene from the current "100 Men 
and a Girl" where a hundred starving 
musicians crowd into the palatial home of 
Stokowski to play. These men were play- 
ing for their lives, as it were; playing for the 
things they so desperately needed, food, 
money, jobs. Yet it seemed to me as I 
watched their eager eyes following every 
motion of Stokowski's eloquent hands, that 
under the master's spell poverty and hunger 
were forgotten and the inspiration of im- 
mortal music filled their souls. 

Only through the medium of these printed 
words is it possible to convey my personal 
gratitude to Leopold Stokowski for his mag- 
nificent pioneering spirit in bringing great 
music closer to us even than radio has done. 
The privilege of watching his incomparable 
directing, of being so close to his fine orches- 
tra, and of being brought into such intimate 
contact with beautiful music surely means a 

great deal to thousands of hungry question- 
ing men and women to whom Stokowski has 
given the noblest answer of all. 

Edith S. Heilman, 
Camp Hill, Pa. 



Please — before Hollywood executives 
place those "two or three notes" on their 
desk pads and permit themselves to be gov- 
erned by them — please allow a voice from 
the wilderness to make itself heard. 

We're agreed, Mr. Seldes, on the high en- 
tertainment value of such movies as "The 
Thin Man." I also liked "After the Thin 
Man." I should welcome an "After 'After 
the Thin Man' " and an "After 'After After 
the Thin Man,' " and an— well, you get the 
idea. I'm not, you see, opposed to Asta's 
taking the upper berth or to the bootees 
Myrna Loy knitted, or was it crocheted? 

But I am opposed to such restriction as 
you seem to wish to place on the Hollywood 
output, making sex dominant and throwing 
overboard what you term its enemies — wit, 
whimsey, musical comedy, mystery stories 
and glamour. Hollywood, I think, under- 
stands sex, but it also understands what box- 
office figures have to tell. There's a varied 
assortment of human beings, Mr. Seldes. 

seeking entertainment by way of the movies. 
There are those who cheer, and those who 
boo the gangster, the G-man, and the hero 
of history, the Western buckaroo, rescue 
bound, galloping out of the sagebrush. But 
all are interested in something different from 
their own everyday experiences. It was 
Shakespeare, on whom you called in support 
of your contention, who praised Cleopatra's 
"infinite variety." That variety constitutes 
Hollywood's chief charm. 


Ellsworth, Kansas. 

Mr. Gilbert Seldes' article "Hollywood 
Does Not Understand Sex" appeared in the 
October issue of Photoplay. According to 
the well-known critic, love and passion have 
disappeared on the screen to be replaced by 
stuffy, censored material of the historical or 
musical type. He claimed, however, that the 
Powell-Loy combination brought Sex back 
in a gayer, giddier guise. Most of our cor- 
respondents agree thoroughly with the above 
letter — thereby disagreeing with Mr. Seldes. 
What about you? 



I have just finished reading Edward 
Doherty's article entitled "Give Robert 
Taylor a Break!" in your November Photo- 
play, and at last I welcome a man who has 
the nerve to stick up for a grand fellow, and 
not push him down just because the wind 
happens to be blowing that way at the 
present time. 

I, for one, agree with him. Robert Taylor 
has not only been pushed around like a rag 
doll by the public, but also by Hollywood 
producers and directors. I don't know 
whether they don't know a fine actor when 
(Continued on page 87) 


— in the scene that brought her 
fame. It isn't often that a girl goes 
under the table and comes up vic- 
torious. But Maria Shelton did. A 
bit player, she stepped into a role 
in "Stand-In"; went on a cinematic 
binge with Leslie Howard; emerged 
a girl you'll be talking about 

Ooh, la, la — George 
Rector gives the epi- 
cure's gesture of ap- 
proval at the perfect 
Hollywood dinner 


Fd% V§<i ^ 


I HolW^ 00 

York's mo 

J did honor 

, Rector. 

st famous 
d him 



here i* 




Sherry — soup 
White wine — fish 
Burgundy — squab 
Champagne — dessert 
Liqueur — coffee 

CAFE LAMAZE— Hors d'oeuvres 

Olympic Oysters, Shrimp La- 
maze, Avocado, Lobster, Blue 
Point Oysters, Chicken Livers, 
served with sauce. 

Recipe for cocktail sauce: 
I bottle catsup 

1 bottle chili sauce 

2 dill pickles (chopped) 

3 ounces pimentos 

l/ 2 green pepper (chopped) 
! leaf celery (chopped) 
2 teaspoons horseradish 
2 teaspoons Escoffier sauce 
2 teaspoons Lea & Perrins' 
2 teaspoons A- 1 sauce 

Mix these together. 

Recipe for Thousand Island 

Take a cup of the above mix- 
ture and add I cup mayonnaise 
and 3 ounces mustard and 
chopped eggs. 


The host and Eddii 
Bra nd st a tt e r o 
Sa r d i ' s with t hi 
Mousse Africain* 

AL LEVY'S TAVERN — Squab stuffed with 
wild rice, by Novello Novelli. 

Bone chicken first. Mix onions and 
sliced mushrooms with rice and wet 
with chicken consomme. Boil 15 min- 
utes. Add piece of butter, chopped 
parsley, and Parmesan cheese. Stuff 
chicken and wrap with one inch piece 
of oiled paper. Put a mixture of 
onions, carrots, celery (all chopped) 
and spices in pan and place chicken 
on top. Bake in oven at 350 for 20 
minutes. Remove from oven and wet 
with sherry wine. Take out chicken 
and make sauce with what is left in 
pan. Remove oiled paper and serve 
with large mushrooms. 

BROWN DERBY— Salad Bowl 

Use only the hearts of: imported Bel- 
gian endive, water cress, lettuce, ro- 
maine, chicory, Denver Pascal celery; 
quartered peeled ripe tomatoes on 
top. Garnish with fresh lobster meat 
cutlets and sliced hard-boiled eggs. 
Sprinkle with chives. 
Mignonette Dressing — for service of 
12 portions: 

I pint olive oil 
/2 pint salad oil 

I tablespoon ground white pepper 

1 cup tarragon vinegar 

2 tablespoons salt 

I bunch chopped chives 

I tablespoon Lea & Perrins' sauce 

I tablespoon mustard 
/2 cup dry white wine 
Shake well. 

VENDOME— Cream Cheese Mold with Bar 
le due Jelly, chef Felix Ganio. 

Mold Cheese. When paste-like make 
deep hole in center and fill with Bar 
le due jelly. Use piping hot bag for 


The honor guest; restaurateur Al 
Levy; beaming host Eddie Sutherland 

fancywork. Garnish with rounds of 
green ripe olives, pimento rickrack, 
turnip roses, quarter pickles and water 

SARDI'S— Mousse Africaine, by chef Frank 


6 yolks of eggs 

6 tablespoons sugar 

2 drops vanilla extract 

6 tablespoons dry white wine 

6 tablespoons sherry 

Add 3 or 4 spoons ground chocolate, 
beat well together. Cook in double 
boiler, beating until stiff. Take off im- 
mediately and put in bowl of cracked 
ice and beat till cold. When cold add 
whipping cream, one third as much as 
total custard, and mix together. Dish 
out in saucer champagne glasses and 
just before serving make hole in center 
and fill with cognac. 

VICTOR HUGO— Five-layer cake, by their 
pastry chef, Marco Vecchi. 

Recipe for sponge cake: 
16 eggs (whole) 

4 egg yolks 

I pound granulated sugar 

I pound pastry flour 

6 ounces butter, melted 

Mix sugar and eggs in double boiler 
until warm. Beat well after cold and 
add flour. Mix again and add butter. 
Bake in oven at 350° from 25 to 30 

Fillings for cake, starting from bot- 
tom: first layer, chocolate, crushed 
with roasted almonds; second layer, 
apricot jam; third layer, butter cream 
and chocolate with hazel nuts; fourth 
layer, strawberry jam. For the top, a 
thick spreading of butter cream, then 
almond paste and finally a thin coat- 
ing of white icing. 

Carol Stone and father Fred with 
the five-layer Victor Hugo cake 



This month is full of both solemnness 

and fun for the Junior Movie Colony, 
They present the first Medallion of 
Honor and start to fix their new yard 

THIS has been a glad and sad period for 
the Junior Legion. Glad because we 
went out to the Twentieth Century-Fox 
Studios last week and pinned the Junior 
Legion Cross of Honor on Shirley Temple; 
and most unsatisfactory because we moved 
and there was a little work to be done, 
namely, cleaning up the back yard. 

You see, there got to be so many Legion- 
naires that the other back yard where I lived 
was too small. So the children all looked 
around and finally found a white house with 
a back yard that was quite nice, although it 
was badly in need of gardening. "Get this 
one!" "This one is fine!" "Please, Marianne, 
and we'll rake it and plant flowers and put 
up the croquet set and Ping-pong table," I 
heard on all sides. 

Bobby and Billy Mauch promised to bring 
hoes and Virginia Weidler her spade and 
shovel. Tommy Kelly enthusiastically of- 
fered to whitewash the stones for the flower 
beds. Jane Withers and Bonita Granville 
and Ann Gillis agreed to mow the grass. I 
sprained my back a little, so I couldn't do 
anything except oversee the work and pass 
around lemonade. 

Girls and boys, I wish you could take a 
look at the back yard now. Except for a 
little whitewash splashed here and there you 
wouldn't know it had been touched. The 
grass is cut a little shorter, and Virginia 
Weidler and Sybil Jason started the flower 
beds. That is, they dug up a little dirt here 
and there and then said they had a backache! 
This has been going on for days. If I try to 
hurry them a little, they look at me resent- 
fully, as though they'd like to say. "But 
you're not doing anything!" They've always 
come to tea promptly at four. They're com- 
ing earlier now — they'd rather be in the 
kitchen making cambric tea and eating gra- 
ham crackers and French babas than in the 
yard working! 

One afternoon, Jane Withers decided that 
she wanted to put up the croquet wickets, so 
she and some other Legionnaires worked 
two hours at hard labor searching one of the 
garages until they found the set. Somehow 
that didn't seem like work. It shouldn't have 
— they'd really spent most of the time walk- 
ing along the picket fence between our house 
and the one next door. 

Some of you have written asking me 
whether the children are real actors or just 
products of a director. I can truthfully say 
that the Junior Legionnaires are more than 
actors. They're real artists — especially when 
it comes to getting out of work. 

Marianne, the editor of 
this page, gets ready for 
the New Year by moving 
nto a white house with a 
back yard that is large 
enough to hold the ever- 
growing Junior Legion 

It's no wonder that Shirley 
Temple has a proud and 
glad smile, for she is the 
first child ever to be given 
the Legion's Honor Cross 

Virginia Weidler helped present the 
Cross, and also spaded the back yard 

I didn't blame them for not wanting to 
work yesterday. Edith Fellows came" to tea 
and brought Kulei and Nalani De Clercq, 
two little Hawaiian girls. Kulei acted in 
"Hurricane," and also danced in "Waikiki 
Wedding." They are our newest Legionnaires 
and you'll hear lots more about them later. 
They did hula dances and sang and played 
ukuleles. Virginia Weidler knew the chil- 
dren, too. They go to her school. They are 

the godchildren of a famous Hawaiian prin- 
cess. I'd like to have them for a Christmas 
present, and I could almost have answered 
truthfully, "I don't know," when Juanita 
Quigley whispered, "Marianne, are they 
real?" I have never seen such exquisite 

JOMETIMES, especially if several boys 
come to tea, we go out and have it in one side 
of the garage. We've fitted the garage up as 
a playhouse and even built ourselves an imi- 
tation fireplace. Somebody at the studio 
gave Tommy Kelly a discarded gas stove, 
so we are quite comfortable. Most of the 
time we sit around and talk over events of 
the day, but we have games in there, too. 
When we were moving, Virginia Weidler 
found an old chess table and set and we have 
a game occasionally, although Billy Burrud 
says anyone who really cares for chess must 
have been born with a growth on the brain. 
But that is the way our boys talk. They'd 
rather play checkers or monopoly. 

Yesterday, Juanita Quigley brought two 
little painted turtles and four goldfish for the 
fish pond, but the Junior Legion hasn't got- 
ten around to cleaning out the fish pond yet, 
so the gold fish and turtles are still in a bor- 
(Continued on page 78) 


Wayne grins at jealous razzing 

Ex-model, Lucille Ba 



You must be curious about them — 
the young starlets you see newly ris- 
ing on the screen. Here are some of 
the things they think / c/o and say 

Andrea came to movies because she was scared 

l"om knows how to squelch bosses 

Edward — handsome but unhappy 

Henry Daniell — a dark horse 

Jon — one of him every season 


IT'S roundup time in Hollywood. All 
the promising young starlets are being 
rounded into the corrals for grooming, in- 
spection and some high-stepping maneuvers. 

Never has any group of young thorough- 
breds looked so promising. And what an 
assortment! There are the eager, anxious 
ones, champing at the bit, waiting for that 
single word "go"; there are the moody, stub- 
born ones who have suffered hurts and 
bruises, longing to show what they can really 
do; there are' the ultramodern young five- 
gaiters, looking amusedly and accusingly at 
the blunders of the bosses. Waiting. Wait- 
ing their chance. 

Yes, they're quite an assortment. Today's 
promises and tomorrow's winners. 

From our grandstand seat, let's take stock. 
Let's really get acquainted with these stars 
of tomorrow. Where did they come from? 
How did they get here? Do their stories re- 
veal any new short cuts on the road to movie 
fame? What do they think, what do they 
stand for and what have they to offer — 
these young Americans who have chosen the 
career of motion pictures as their lifework? 
We've watched them — you and I — as they 
flickered briefly in their quiet corners on the 
movie screens; now let's get to know at least 
a few of them. 


It's the smile that does the trick. Wayne 
Morris is just another overgrown lad with 
blue eyes and blond hair — until he smiles. 
From then on he's Kid Galahad, the boy who 
romped home with his first big picture under 
his arm. Because his dad stood by him, we 
have young Morris on the screen. When 
Wayne yearned to join the Pasadena Play- 
house school, Dad put up the money and en- 
couraged him to stick. Wayne stuck until a 
movie mogul bore him off to Hollywood. 

Was once a forest ranger and rode for 
miles and days all alone. He's a native Cali- 
fornian and bakes a swell pie. Is a wow on 
the cocoanut custard kind. Doesn't care for 
clothes but pays around sixty dollars when 
he buys a new suit. He jiggles his feet and 
hands all the time but claims he isn't ner- 
vous. Just active. Has a younger brother, 
Dick, whom he's definitely against. And vice 
versa. Clarence Buddington Kelland is his 
favorite author. Loves to ride in a roller 
coaster, and thinks "Night And Day" about 
the best song ever written. Likes his music 
sweet, but not hot. Lives with his mother, 
father, and brother and never hung up his 
clothes in his life. His mother has to watch 
him like a hawk or he'll wear a polo shirt on 
all occasions. He flusters easily and usually 
stuffs fans' autograph books in his pocket. 
He's that flustered when they ask him. 

Pesters directors to death. Wants to know 
all the whys and wherefores. Doesn't want 
to be an actor but a director. Thinks a fel- 
low ought to be allowed to pick up a pork 
chop by the bone and eat it. Wayne always 
picks up his chops regardless. 

Took a bit of jealous razzing from older 
actors on the "Submarine D — 1" set. And 
took it with the famous Morris grin. Doesn't 
care a lot for girls and is terribly amused at 
all the publicity given his so-called romances. 
Wayne claims he has no romances. Just colds 
in his head. 

His next is "Brother Rat." 


Bringing Warner Brothers out in the lead 
by a good length is the most promising of 
the younger actresses, freckle-faced Jane 
Bryan. Real name O'Brien and looks it. Is 
a native daughter of California — which 
makes her feel like something in a bottle in a 
Harvard laboratory. Daddy is a lawyer who 

never had a case to equal Jane and her three 
younger brothers. The brothers aren't im- 
pressed with Jane as an actress. One of them 
still doesn't believe it. Jane doesn't herself. 
Makes extravagant gestures such as sucking 
lollipops and sitting on floors, thinking by 
these antics that she's hiding the quiet steady 
flame that burns within. 

"I'm really potty!" or "I never think; peo- 
ple get in trouble when they think," Jane 
says, struggling to hide the keen intelligence, 
the sensitiveness, the inward dreams. She 
fools no one. It all comes out on the screen, 
as it did in "Marked Woman" and "Confes- 

Actresses like Kay Francis and Bette 
Davis keep storming front offices to exclaim 
over little Jane Bryan. It leaves her weak 
with wonder and appreciation, because she 
never wanted to be in movies in the first 
place. Yearns like fury for the stage. Wants 
to be another Helen Hayes. Feels with her 
plain face she doesn't fit in movies. Was 
brought in from Jean Muir's Little Theater. 
Never saw a New York stage. Is another 
typical example of the intelligent young 
women of today's movies. Lives with her 

The working crew in every picture adores 
Jane. She hides every hurt with a grin. A 
wide, honest grin. 

Is a big softie for music, sad movies, beau- 
tiful landscapes. Cries over them. "Winnie, 
the Pooh" is her bible. She's just nineteen. 
Claims boys are all right in their place. 

Has more natural talent to offer than most 
major actresses. And is just a bit bewildered 
about it. Intelligence rates at least ninety- 
five percent (five percent off for the lollipop 
gag because it doesn't fool anyone) . 

Chances for success . . . well, we'd give 
her a good ninety-eight percent. 

(Continued on page 79 ) 


Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 

(Continued from page 43) 

1. Jackie is the first child star of yes- 
terday who has grabbed a wife for him- 

2. He's got so much money he doesn't 
have to work. 

3. What will this do to Betty's ca- 
reer? We understand Jackie didn't 
want to marry her until she has prom- 
ised to give up acting. 

4. The courtship lasted three years, 
during which they fought and made up 
again too often to record. 

5. What about Mamma? 

And a Song at Twilight 

vjRACE MOORE is building a new 
home. The first two items on the con- 
struction plans, much to the amazement 
of the builders, called for a tennis court 
and swimming pool to be completed im- 

When these things were out of the 
way, the . workers turned their efforts 
toward erecting a house; whereupon 
Grace cleared up a puzzling point by 
announcing that she'd planned her con- 
struction work so the men, during the 
rest of the working hours, could enjoy 
the facilities of both the tennis court and 
the pool. We're all for easing labor at 
every turn, of course, but it does appear 
to us that batting a tennis ball about 
during rest period will leave the car- 
penters little energy for sawing. Per- 
haps if she just came out and sang for 
them . . . 

Mr. Butterfield, Where Angels Fear 


ITH George Brent's alleged treat- 
ment of Constance Worth still a matter 
of front-page news in Australia — where 
a bill to ban officially all movies con- 
taining Brent in the cast is up for con- 
sideration — fair Constance Worth is still 
attracting the glances of admiring Hol- 
lywood men. Walton Butterfield, a film 
writer at Warners, seems to have the 
inside track, at present. Their attentive 
friendship, many claim, might easily 
lead to the altar, if and when the Brent 
divorce decree sets Constance free. 

The Price of Prestige 

JlNCE Garbo will have at least five 
months' wait before starting another 
picture, it is rumored at her studio that 
she may choose to spend the time in her 
native Sweden. We suspect that her 
delay in sailing, or announcement of 
any home-going plans, has been over 
the signing of her new contract with 

We don't believe for a minute that she 
will refuse to sign another three-picture 
deal. Still, her latest film, "Conquest," 
cost the studio well over three million 
dollars, most of which must be returned 
from foreign exhibitor fees (since it's an 
admitted studio fact that Garbo pictures 
lose money in America). Wherefore it 
can be readily understood that a Garbo 
contract is not one to be drawn in the 
heat of the day. 

Incidentally, when it comes to box 
office, she is not above worrying whether 
her famous feet are of clay. Attending 
her first sneak preview since she entered 
the movies, Garbo traveled clear to Po- 
mona to get an audience reaction to 
"Conquest." About halfway through 
the picture a dozen or more boys, seated 
close to her, jumped up from their seats 
and raced loudly from the theater. 

With the echo of their high laughter 
ringing in her ears, Garbo sought out 
the theater manager. What was wrong? 
she demanded. Didn't children like her 
pictures? Did they say anything as 

Paying homage to the beloved veteran of comedy were Jean 
Hersholt, and those newlyweds: Margo and Francis Lederer 

they left? Despite Garbo's great con- 
cern, the manager couldn't stifle his 
hearty laugh. "Oh, don't worry about 
them kids," he said. "They go to a 
boarding school here in town. If they 
aren't in by 10: 30 at night, they can't 
come again tomorrow." 

Garbo continues to astonish the na- 
tives this month who, we must confess, 
astonish easily as far as the taciturn 
Swede is concerned. 

First it was Allan Jones who experi- 
enced a sense of relief and then aston- 
ishment at Garbo's hands. As long as 
Garbo's back yard met Allan's back 
yard, the actor could not allow his fa- 
vorite riding horse to roam about the 
garden. Garbo complained of the whin- 
nying. Reluctantly, Jones stabled his 
horse elsewhere. Imagine his relief when 
Garbo moved away and Jones could 
once more pasture his own horse. But 
it was Greta's last play in that little 
game. To Jones' surprise he discovered 
she has moved on the same street and 
only two doors away. So the horse had 
to go back to the stable. 

Rosalind Russell received the next 

shock when, glancing over at a small 
inexpensive roadster next her car at a 
signal light, whom should she see at the 
wheel but Garbo herself. Which was 
Hollywood's first intimation Greta had 
finally parted with her ancient vintage 
limousine and gone in for driving her 
own small roadster. 


New Feuds: 

HE Chinese extras on the Charlie 
Chan set and the Japanese extras on the 
Mr. Moto set. 

Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell. 
Fred claims he originated the drum 
dance. Eleanor claims she did. Both 
dance their own version of it in their 
new pictures. 


Newcomer Department 

ITH foreign film companies going 
to pot with a kind of relentless monot- 
ony all the time, a lot of pretty good 
talent has been loosed to Hollywood's 
greedy clutches. This month marks the 
peak of importations. 

Over at Paramount they're bragging 
about Isa Miranda and Franciska Gaal 

A French toast to two Continental 
stars — Fernand Gravet and Danielle 
Darrieux — on their arrival out West 

(pronounced like the country that was 
divided into three parts). M-G-M has 
become slightly hysterical over a Miss 
Rose Stradner of Vienna. Universal is 
even more so over Danielle Darrieux, 
a cross between Joan Crawford and a 
French pastry. Annabella, a French girl 
who has made many English pictures is 
preparing a film in America now and 
English Jessie Matthews is on her way. 

There are a good many fine American 
names on the new contract lists, too. 
We got full of energy -the other day and 
made the rounds of the studios, inter- 
viewing like mad and finding out what 
to expect from the batch. 

Dick Baldwin, who shot to stardom in 
"Love Begins in College," and who is 
now costarring with Simone Simon in 
"Love and Hisses," is a typical American 
boy. Dick's mother, Mrs. Susan Bald- 
win, has worked as a secretary for the 
St. Louis Union Electric Light and 
Power Company for the past twenty-six 
years, and her first consideration has 
always been to look after her son's wel- 

It looks, now, as if Dick were going to 
show his mother just how much he ap- 
preciates her years of toil. We have the 
information that the rising young actor 
is living on a budget of $40 a week in 
a tiny apartment in Hollywood where 
he prepares his own meals — and the re- 
mainder of his sizeable weekly check is 
going into a trust fund, from which he 
will build his mother a home in Holly- 

The first request fifteen-year-old 
Frankie Thomas, given the title role in 
Universal's series of "Tim Tyler" pic- 
tures, made when he stepped on the lot 
was that he be permitted to go to school 
in the same classroom as Deanna Dur- 
bin. The studio thought it might inter- 
fere with his concentration, but he 
finally got his wish. 

Radio listeners who remember the 
smooth-voiced Jack Arnold of the Myrt 
and Marge series may be interested in 
knowing that he's now in the movies. 


Above, newly-engaged Virginia Bruce and J. Walter 
Ruben. And there with Vic Orsatti is llona Massey, 
M-G-M's new star whom Van Dyke so raves about 

His real name is Vinton Haworth. He's 
actually Ginger Rogers' uncle. He's un- 
der contract to RKO, but he didn't get 
very far until these things happened: 
he had his name legally changed from 
Vinton Haworth to Jack Arnold; he let 
it be known he was the uncle of lovely 
Ginger; he shaved off his mustache. 
Now he's going to town in one picture 
after another. 

Daniel Boone Savage, the Kentucky 
mountaineer wrestler whom Warner 
Brothers discovered and brought to 
Hollywood for a role in "Gold Is Where 
You Find It," thinks movies and movie- 
makers are the bunk. They get a 
strange guy to come to their town and 
then want to interrupt his normal rou- 
tine of living. 

Savage brought his three hound-dogs 
and his two roosters to Hollywood with 
him for company. The studio promptly 
prohibited him from bringing them to 
the studio, so during the day he has to 
keep them shut up in his apartment. 
The hound-dogs have made such a fuss 
about it, and so have the neighbors, that 
Savage has had to move every week to 
new quarters. There's one point, how- 
ever, on which Savage stubbornly re- 
fuses to budge. He will not enter the 
studio commissary for lunch. He brings 
his corn bread and bacon, sits under a 
prop tree in the studio's prop park and 
pines for the friendly yapping of his 
three hounds. 

Four-year-old Beverly Wills, daugh- 
ter of actress Joan Davis, got a "meanie" 
role in Shirley Temple's new picture. 

She arrived home from school, next day, 
with a black eye. "A playground acci- 
dent," she carefully explained. 

Noo, Noo, Noo — 

IF Mr. Edgar Bergen and his little splin- 
ter, Charlie McCarthy, make as great a 
hit with the American public in their 
first picture as they have with this de- 
partment's Hollywood correspondents, 
the team will be the most sensational 
cinema discovery of the year. We find 
in our mail eight different items re- 
counting Charlie's bright sayings; and 
we never lift the telephone but what an 
excited voice imparts the news that the 
dummy has fallen off Bergen's lap, to 
the hysteria of the crowd. 

Herewith a few selections from the 
lot, and a solemn warning to our assist- 
ants that if they don't stop hanging 
around the radio station listening to B. 
and McC.,— well. 

Dorothy Lamour gave a supper to the 
cast of a radio hour and served Charlie 
a plate of sawdust. 

Claudette Colbert came over to visit, 
the dummy's pants started to slip, and 
Bergen leaned over to tack them on 
again. Whispered Charlie, "Please! Not 
before Miss Colbert!" 

Phil Baker's four-year-old daughter 
visited what she calls the "stuglo" and 
saw Charlie for the first time. At home 
again, she faced her daddy indignantly. 
"Why didn't you tell me about that nice 
little boy down at the stuglo?" she 

Phil, discovering his daughter was en- 
chanted, was afraid to tell her Charlie 

is only paint and hardwood. He himself 
has a personal difference with the caus- 
tic dummy. In close-ups he must give 
out with gag after gag, while Charlie— 
freshly painted — merely stares wood- 
enly, unlaughing. Result: Phil blows 
up in his lines repeatedly. 

Goldwyn Multiplication 

'OR a sequence in the "The Goldwyn 
Follies," it was necessary to have fifty 
cats to play in a scene with the Ritz 
brothers. The fifty cats were produced 
and, after the scene was shot, the owner 
called for his pets. 

Only there were fifty-one cats and 
no one could account for the extra one. 
No one on the lot had ever seen it be- 
fore. So the Ritz brothers tossed a coin. 
Harry won. He calls it "Goldwyn's 
Greatest Folly." 

This Is Fame 

v3ENE AUTRY, the cowboy star who 
stands ace high at all small-town box 
offices, is beginning to be more than a 
little hurt that Hollywood itself fails to 
recognize him as he walks about the 
street. His studio finally persuaded 
Autry to go out more and get known, 
and made arrangements to take the star 
to the fights that very night. As Autry 
stepped out of his car, a group of small 
boys suddenly recognized him and 
gathered about for autographs. 

Time went on and at last his com- 
panion urged Autry to hurry as the 
fights had started. "You just go on to 
the fights," Autry smiled, "and I'll meet 
you here right after. You know I'm 
getting a bigger kick out of this than 
I ever would out of a fight." 

So he stayed and signed. 

The Grandest Girl 


lELEN TROY, or perhaps you know 
her as Saymore Saymore, the girl with 
the fast chatter, is not superstitious. 
Playing the part of a maid, Saymore 
was sent over to the M-G-M wardrobe 
department for a costume. "We have a 
costume Jean Harlow wore in 'Riff 
Raff' " they told her, "but several of the 
girls have refused to wear it. Afraid 
of bad luck, I guess." 

"I'll wear it," Helen said. "Nothing 
but good can ever come from anything 
associated with Jean. She was the 
grandest girl I ever knew." 

And Helen returned to the set wear- 
ing Jean's old costume that superstition 
has caused several others to turn down. 

That afternoon Helen was summoned 
to the casting office and told she had 
just been selected for her biggest role 
to date. A part in "Thoroughbreds Don't 

"Only I did cry a little," Helen said. 
"It was just as if Jean herself had done 
one more good deed in this world." 



ALLY BEERY will vacation in Eng- 
land after one more picture. His leg 
is still in bad shape from that gunshot 
wound. . . Gloria Dickson and Perc 
Westmore, of Warners' make-up depart- 
ment, are probably married by now. 
They had to wait for her divorce to 
wind itself up. . . . 

"Rex," a mongrel dog cast in "Penrod 
and His Twin Brother," has earned hi^ 
owner, Henry East, more than $10,000 
in the past four years. He bought the 
creature for three dollars. . . Ronald 
Reagan, who has made five pictures in 
the last four months at Warners, was 
told the other day that unless his studio 
could loan him out at once he'd have 
to take a salary "layoff". . . . 

Danielle Darrieux's writer husband, 
Henri Decoin, was assigned to writing 

and advising on his glamorous wife's 
first movie at Universal. Now the stu- 
dio must engage an interpreter to get 
any value out of the man. . . Jean 
Hersholt is a little disappointed, because 
the Quints' physician, Dr. Dafoe, prom- 
ised to visit Hollywood and then had 
to postpone his plans. We heard the 
doctor on a radio program the other 
day, incidentally, and noticed he ob- 
served many self-imposed restrictions 
so far as any intimate information about 
his five charges was concerned. . . . 

Wendy Barrie drives in her stocking 
feet. . . Glenda Farrell at last has re- 
ceived permission to go to New York 
and do a play. . . Nat Pendleton's 
mother made her first visit to his set, 
watched him in a scene depicting a 
wrestling match, and was so concerned 
for him ("But they're so rough!" she 
complained) that she went quickly 
home again. . . . 

For your information, Stan Laurel is 
forming a separate producing unit at 
Hal Roach's studio, and when his two- 
year contract is up he'll give up acting 
entirely. . . And for your disillusion- 
ment: Tarzan Weissmuller had more 
fireworks with Loopee because she 
wanted him to go to Mexico with her 
and he refused. She's a rabid bull fight 
fan, you see, and would need an escort. 
But Tarzan is so tenderhearted he al- 
most faints when he sees an animal 
hurt. . . Glenn Morris, Sol Lesser's new 
Tarzan, attends local Rotary luncheons 
twice a month and lectures before the 
attentive Y. W. C. A. group. . . 

Add Good Deeds 

IF you would believe the various press 
agentries in Hollywood there is not a 
single star who doesn't spend half his 
time and most of his fortune going about 
spreading cheer and light among the 
town's unfortunates. The following an- 
ecdotes, however, have been authenti- 

Kay Francis, preparing to give a party 
on the set with all the cast and crew 
of her latest picture as guests, heard 
that her stand-in's little son was in the 
hospital with acute appendicitis. Miss 
Francis canceled the party, drove the 
stand-in to the hospital, stood by during 
the operation, and offered financial as- 

Adolphe Menjou discovered that his 
valet, Eumincio Blanco, was unhappy. 
Blanco had received a badly censored 
letter from his mother in Spain an- 
nouncing that his brother had been cast 
into an Insurgent jail. The mother was 
ill and penniless. Menjou offered money, 
was gratefully but firmly refused; so 
he got the valet a job in his picture 
as a kind of extraordinary-extra — that 
is, Blanco plays half a dozen different 
bits (unnoticeable, of course) in the 
film, and receives a check for each. 

Sentimental Interlude 


NOWING Ginger Rogers and Lew 
Ayres as we do, we would hesitate to 
say that they will ever be reconciled 
in their ill-fated love match. But we 
do know that Lew has no intention of 
living out his life as any kind of lone 
wolf. He is building a grand new home 
up in Laurel Canyon, off Hollywood 
Boulevard. It's more than just a new 
house to Lew; it's really a dream come 
true, in many ways. Eight years ago, 
Lew used to climb up on the very moun- 
taintop where he is now building his 
home. He would sit up there for hours, 
making promises to himself, and wish- 
ing that some day he could afford to 
buy that mountaintop and build a home 
there. This is that house, on that hill. 
And you can be sure that before too 
many years Lew is going to have a girl 
to share his dream. 


If the Windsors Had Come to Hollywood 

(Continued jrom page 13) 

by helping to bind the wounds of inno- 
cent victims of Signor Mussolini's favor- 
ite sport. The Motion Picture Artists 
Committee calls on the decent people of 
Hollywood who emphatically dissent 
from the welcome accorded Signor Mus- 
solini to redeem the name of our com- 
munity by sending — a carlaod oj medi- 
cal supplies to Spain. 

But all this was as nothing compared 
to the situation that would have greeted 
the Windsors had they arrived in Holly- 
wood on schedule. 

The antagonism to young Mussolini 
was based on Hollywood's distaste for 
his father's manner of butting in on 
world affairs outside of Italy, and young 
Mussolini's enjoyment of war. 

There was much more involved in the 
Windsor's case. First of all, it was no 
secret in Hollywood that the Windsors 
had Nazi leanings. It will be remem- 
bered that prior to Edward's abdication 
it was reliably reported from England 
that Mme. Simpson was receiving Ger- 
many's famed troublemaking Ambas- 
sador, Herr von Ribbentrop, at her 
Mayfair home where the King was also 
a frequent visitor. 

Then, after the abdication, Edward 
went to Austria to live in the castle of 
a Hitler sympathizer. And pre- 
ceding their world-touted marriage at 
the Chateau de Cande on June 3, the 
world's greatest lovers moved to Castle 
Wasserleonberg in the Carpathian 
mountains, where they entertained 
many Fascist friends. 

A couple of weeks prior to making 
their proposed American tour the 
Windsors were entertained in Germany 
by Hitler and many high Nazi officials. 
And last but not least they were to have 
sailed on a German liner! 

How could Hollywood be expected to 
stomach this when practically all of its 
big producers are opposed to Nazi 
theories as are certainly a great propor- 
tion of its directors, actors and writers? 

Let's not forget also that there are a 

lot of people in Hollywood who are still 
loyal British subjects. What would 
Ronald Colman, or Herbert Marshall, or 
Leslie Howard, or Basil Rathbone, or 
Wendy Barrie have done, for instance, 
if they had been obliged to curtsey to 
Wally, or to kiss her hand? 

What might have happened to guest 
lists which must perforce have been 
submitted to the Windsors by each hos- 
tess who entertained them, if the names 
of certain important people in filmland, 
whom they (the Windsors) didn't choose 
to meet, were stricken off? 

What would have been the fate of 
uninvited guests who might have turned 
up after dinner or tried to crash the 
gates, so to speak, at any large formal 
affair? And if the Duke or Duchess 
refused to shake their hands, would this 
have gone down as film-history's most 
embarrassing moment? 

Where would eager hostesses who did 
entertain them seat them, and how 
would those hostesses arrange their 
tables, anyway? Even the U.S. State 
Department, whose Protocol Officer is 
authority on the proper seating of roy- 
alty at dinner tables, remained silent 
— aghast, evidently, at the enormity of 
the work that lay ahead. For any hos- 
tess who might have honored the ex- 
King who is "persona non grata" in 
England, would have flouted her dis- 
taste and disapproval of his brother, 
the King. And that hostess, herself, 
would have become persona non grata 
in the British Empire from then on. 

Then, too, Hollywood is particularly 
labor-conscious these days. She is in 
the throes of her own little labor war, 
which she is taking quite as seriously 
as is any one of the larger cities 
throughout the land. Important mem- 
bers of the film colony attend regularly 
meetings of the SAG (Screen Actors 
Guild), the SDG (Screen Directors 
Guild), and the SWG (Screen Writers 
Guild) . 

The injection of Charles Bedeaux into 
the Windsors' tour was immediately 

frowned upon in movieland. Long be- 
fore the American Federation of Labor 
went on record as being opposed to his 
acting as the Windsors' guide, people 
in the colony's innermost circles were 
discussing the Bedeaux system, which 
was anathema to them. Even the most 
openminded just couldn't understand 
the Duke's strategy in employing the 
services of a man so notoriously un- 
sympathetic to the very essential things 
which the Windsors claimed they were 
coming to America to study. 

Sadly enough, perhaps, Edward was 
popular in America, when he visited us 
twice before, for some of the qualities 
which ultimately cost him his throne. 
He was unassuming, good-natured and 
boyishly fond of having a good time. 

Together as man and wife, Wally and 
Edward both enjoy many of the same 
qualities today, and yet there are people 
who believe these attributes do not be- 
long hand-in-hand with hard work. 
Thus they would have probably been 
criticized abundantly for the pseudo- 
fun they might have had on their 
American tour. 


HILE the prime reason for the 
Windsors' proposed Hollywood sojourn 
had actually been, they said, to try to 
find ways and means of bringing to the 
people to the British Empire peace 
on earth. Whether this could have been 
accomplished through a movie campaign 
of education depicting the horrors of 
modern war tactics is problematical. 
However, in any case it is quite certain 
they would have been gravely misun- 
derstood at the very beginning of their 
tragic, unfulfilled mission. 

Of course, it was not impossible 
that Edward and his American-born 
Duchess might actually have consented 
to the making of a film, in which both 
of them might have appeared. For a 
long time rumor had it in Hollywood 
that such was going to be the case. 
Figures in excess of the million-dollar 
mark were mentioned time and again. 

The extraordinary success of "The 
Prisoner of Zenda" certainly points to 
the manner in which people take to the 
mythical kingdom idea. 

What might those same people have 
done if the most sensational regal 
couple in history today should have 
appeared together in a film? Surely 
that would have been the McCoy. 

But, regardless of whether the Wind- 
sors actually would have appeared in a 
picture or not, they would probably 
have brought with them that exceed- 
ingly interesting film of their courtship 
from its inception until today, which 
their close friend and admirer, Herman 
L. Rogers had taken. 

To date, because of his devotion and 
friendship for the subjects, Mr. Rogers 
has repeatedly turned down all offers 
made him for this eight-reel thriller 
that could be made the tops of all news- 
reel productions of the year. 

At any rate, with so many handicaps 
staring them straight in the face, 
weren't the Windsors taking an awful 
chance to think of coming to screenland 
at all? They, themselves, felt they 
weren't. Why? Because, as far back as 
last May when I saw them in France, 
they believed that their popularity in 
America would enable them to circum- 
vent all of these "trite reasons" — (those 
are Edward's words, not mine) when I 
suggested, as I did at that time, that 
there were these obstacles to be met. 

And, finally, in the Duke's recent 
statement that he and his American- 
born Duchess hope to come to America 
"anyway" later on "when public opinion 
will have changed," you have the full 
measure of a man who, because of his 
royal upbringing, still cannot grasp pub- 
lic opinion as it exists. 

From one day to the next, one doesn't 
know. Perhaps by the time this reaches 
you, the royal couple will have de- 
scended on Hollywood. But at least for 
the moment, cinema town has settled 
back, glad of the respite afforded them, 
temporary though it may be. 

Photoplay's Own Beauty Shop 

(Continued jrom page 60) 

your while to match your make-up to 
your clothes. 

wandering around being very Techni- 
color-conscious, which I hope you're 
going to be, too, I picked up a few more 
tips for you on how to apply your cos- 

First of all (and all the make-up men 
I know agree on this one), don't put on 
your foundation until at least ten min- 
utes after getting out of the tub. You 
see, the warm water (unless, of course, 
you're one of those virile souls who 
takes cold showers) opens your pores, 
and they won't get back to normal be- 
fore that time. So wait at least that 
long, or your powder will cake. 

Perc Westmore follows that up by 
saying that after you have put on a thin 
coating of a good powder base (of 
course, you use one) you should rub 
your face with ice wrapped in a chamois 
cloth. And then apply your make-up 
after the skin is completely dry. This 
helps keep your powder base on longer 
and makes the powder and rouge go on 

Here's a little trick I picked up from 

a group of the stock girls and dancers in 
"Ali Baba Goes To Town." After re- 
moving their cleansing cream at night, 
they rub their faces and hands with a 
mentholated cream which they leave on 
all night. That's the secret of their 
smooth, clear skins. 

If you have a faint tendency to break 
out (and who hasn't?) just when that 
attractive man has finally come through 
and asked you for a date, this treatment 
will clear up the disturbance in no time, 
and save you from having to turn your 
right profile to him just because the left 
cheek has a blemish on it. 

I watched Jack Dawn make up one of 
the girls over at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 
where he heads the make-up depart- 
ment, and noticed that he didn't put any 
mascara on her lashes. So, of course, 
I had to ask him why. He said that 
when a girl has straight lashes or lashes 
that go downward instead of curling up- 
ward, she should never use mascara be- 
cause it weights the lashes down and 
they hide the eyes. You can, however, 
use a cream mascara very sparingly. 

The best way to make mascara go on 
smoothly and have your lashes appear 
thicker is to apply a light coating of 

vaseline or oil to your lashes and then 
powder them lightly. Be sure, however, 
that the oil is all dusted with powder. 
Then apply your mascara with an al- 
most dry brush, and only put it on the 
upper lashes, as this makes your eyes 
look larger. If your brush is too wet or 
you use too much water on it, your eyes 
will look too obviously made up. 

dashing around to get you these beauty 
tips, I've been popping in and out of 
department stores trying to get a little 
last minute Christmas shopping done, 
and I found two new things on the mar- 
ket which not only make splendid gifts 
but are wonderful for you to use all 
year round. 

One is a new vanity and lipstick en- 
semble which was created by a famous 
Hollywood make-up authority. The 
compact is of burnished gold, has rouge 
in it and a perfect powder sifter for 
loose powder. The lipstick is super-in- 
delible. These sets come in color har- 
mony shades for blondes, brunettes, 
redheads and brownettes. 

The other is a make-up kit, with 
make-up that matches the eyes. 

Gloria Dickson came to Hollywood as a 
pretty, fairly attractive young actress. 
She was signed by Warner Brothers and 
met up with Perc Westmore. Perc 
arched her brows, widened the space 
between them, gave her a heavier eye- 
brow line with a light-brown pencil. 
He decided a darker powder and blue- 
gray eye shadow would bring out the 
color of her eyes, and he created an in- 
dividual lipstick for her to blend with 
her skin. He said she was a dramatic 
type, so he brushed all the waves out of 
her hair and left just a little curl at the 

Gloria looks simply gorgeous; she 
and Perc are stepping out together, and 
as for her career — well, you'll be prop- 
erly amazed when you read page 79. 
Which just goes to show what the right 
make-up will do for you. Let this be a 
lesson to you and me. 

// you Irish persona] advice on your 
beauty problems, write directly to 
Carolyn Van Wyck. Photoplay Miuki- 
tine, 7151 Sunset Boulevard, Holly- 
wood, Cal. Be certain to enclose a 
STAMPED self-addressed envelope. 


fS tells you 
how to protect 

"All you girls who want to be popular — here's 
something you ought to remember: The man 
was never born who could resist the charm of 
perfect daintiness. The least fault against it 
just ruins illusions — and spoils romance. 

HAVE you ever thought before 
of what this lovely screen star 
says? The charm that's most appeal- 
ing of all — perfect daintiness from 
head to toe — is a charm within the 
reach of any girl. 

A regular Lux Toilet Soap beauty 
bath will leave you refreshed — skin 
sweer— pores freed of hidden traces of 
stale perspiration by ACTIVE lather. 
Your skin will have a delicate fra- 
grance that makes people want to be 
near you. Try this simple, inexpen- 
sive way to make sure of daintiness. 
Famous screen stars use it. You're 
sure to find it works for you. 

w '"> a delicate „T sk,n rea »/ sweet-!? * 

a icate ee'fume you'll l 0ve £i ^ fra 3'anf 

9 out of 10 lovely screen stars use this gentle 
soap with ACTIVE lather. You can keep 
your skin soft and smooth the easy 
Hollywood way. 


Eleanor Holm, swimming star, becomes the queen of the 
Jungle in 20th Century-Fox's "Tarzan's Revenge," while 
Glenn Morris takes over the popular Weissmuller role 

We Cover the Studios 

(Continued jrom page 45) 

be located by Randolph Scott and Jack 
Haley, because she has gone to her 
aunt's farm, where Bill Robinson is a 
hired hand. 

We see the audition room of the 
broadcasting station. A million — well, 
a hundred — youngsters are on the set. 
On the sidelines are their mothers, idle 
spectators. Extras play the youngsters' 
mothers in the scene. 

Also on the sidelines is Shirley, her- 
self. She doesn't have to work today, 
but she's here anyway, to watch the fun. 
She seldom gets the chance to see other 
children act. 

The scene has Haley clapping his hand 
over the mouth of a painful child prod- 
igy, and not only getting bitten, but get- 
ting a clout on the head with the moth- 
er's handbag, in which, it seems, there 
is a horseshoe — "for luck." (Director 
Allan Dwan orders a sound effect of a 
hammer hitting a cocoanut.) Haley, 
rubbing his head, walks toward the 
glass entrance doors, outside of which 
stands a mob of mothers and children. 
As he opens the doors — and his mouth — 
a tiny tot, held in her mother's arms, 
plops her lollypop into his mouth. 
Notice this tiny tot. She is Joan Davis' 
four-year-old, Beverly, getting her first 
screen laugh — with Mama Joan among 
the onlookers. 

life comes a completely dizzy deb (Hep- 
burn, as we live and breathe!), with a 
live leopard in tow. Grant's frustrated 
efforts to get them out of his life make 
for mad hilarity. 

On a San Fernando Valley ranch, be- 
fore which a street front has been 
thrown up overnight, we watch one of 
those efforts. And this, we'll have you 
know, is a major triumph, getting with- 
in even telescopic distance of a Hep- 
burn set. This once, for Photoplay, the 
bars are down. 

Grant is walking down a street. Hep- 
burn is driving alongside in a station 
wagon. She has been trying to talk him 
into taking Baby. He has got out to 
walk and tell her, at a distance, "Never." 
She retorts that he may not know it, but 
he has Baby. The leopard, which he 
thought was in the station wagon, is 
padding along behind him (with Olga 
Celeste, famous woman animal-trainer, 
alongside, just out of camera range) . 

The scene over, Cary, mopping his 
damp brow and uncringing his back, 
says, "If they had to pick a theme song 
for this picture, why couldn't they pick 
something like 'Hold That Tiger'?" 



'N the set of "Charlie Chan at Monte 
Carlo" we make two discoveries. (1) 
Swedish Warner Oland wears no make- 
up to look Chinese. (2) When he is 
playing Chan, he talks like Chan even 
between "takes." 

We watch a scene in which he doesn't 
have to utter a word. But the elec- 
tricians are so long rearranging the 
lights after they have once been ar- 
ranged that Oland says: "If Charlie 
Chan melt like pat of butter in frying 
pan, resultant grease spot will be on 
electrician's soul." 

Jotting down this Chan-ism, we head 
for RKO-Radio, where we go on a lo- 
cation trip to see "Bringing Up Baby," 
costarring Katharine Hepburn and Cary 
Grant. Baby is a leopard which is most 
tractable when somebody sings "I Can't 
Give You Anything But Love, Baby." 

Cary has put on heavy horn-rimmed 
specs, a set of absent-minded gestures 
and a stoop-shouldered stance to play 
a young fossil collector. Into his placid 

see. Ginger Rogers upholding her 
"Stage Door" laurels in "Having Won- 
derful Time," with Douglas Fairbanks, 
Jr., as her costar, we go on another lo- 
cation trip — to Big Bear Lake in the 
San Bernardino Mountains. 

The script calls for her to swim across 
the lake — with a pair of men's shorts 
and a scarf for her two-piece swimming 
gear. We see her arrive on the oppo- 
site shore, comically bedraggled. 

Already shivering, she has to go out 
into the lake just far enough for the 
camera to catch her coming out of the 
water. It's far enough for her to change 
from flesh pink to pale blue and to be 
thankful this picture isn't in Techni- 
color. And to quip, between chatters, 
when the scene is over, "I hope there's 
no cold in these here chills!" 

We saw Lily Pons in eight ounces of 
feathers last month. We drop in on the 
set of "Hitting a New High" in the hope 
of seeing her in tights, as did that San 
Francisco opera conductor, who after- 
ward said heatedly that the movies were 
trying to make opera look like a circus. 
But today's scene calls for her to wear 
a full-length evening gown. 

We ask Jack Oakie his personal opin- 
ion of opera stars who wear feathers 
and tights on the screen. "More power 
to 'em!" says Jack. "I say: let those 
who can wear 'em, wear 'em. Opera 
will be popular yet!" 

From RKO-Radio, we hie ourselves 
to the Walt Disney studio, for a behind- 
the-scenes glimpse of "Snow White and 
the Seven Dwarfs" — which Disney 
started three years and $1,200,000 ago. 

The reason for the cost and the delay 
is simple. Here is not just one moving 
picture; here are fifty thousand moving 
pictures joined into a cohesive whole. 
Every little fraction of a movement calls 
for a separate, distinct drawing. And 
Disney and his staff made two complete 
sets of rough drafts of every movement 
before the final sketches. 

Then Disney complicated his monu- 
mental task by seeking a way to give 
"depth" to the drawings. Don't grumble 
about having to wait three years for 
"Snow White." You may soon be huz- 
zahing a man who takes his time. 

Which thought sends us in pursuit of 
Mae West, at Paramount, where she is 
just starting "Every Day's a Holiday," 
in which, once more, she is one of those 
robust turn-of-the-century gals. Schia- 
parelli, no less, has furnished her ward- 
robe. Mae herself furnished the story. 

We see her in a rococo Fifth Avenue 
living room of 1900. With her are 
Charles Winninger, Walter Catlett and 
Charles Butterworth. They are discuss- 
ing Edmund Lowe, whom they want as 
a candidate for mayor. He has vanished. 
If he doesn't appear pretty soon, Mae 
says she'll run for mayor herself. They 
mention the rough crowds she'd have to 
face. One of them asks, "Do you think 
you can handle all those men?" Which 
gives Mae a chance to quip, "You ought 
to read my mail sometime." 

But, in rehearsal, she quips, instead, 
"You ought to peek through my keyhole 
sometime." The censor on the set 
reaches for his smelling salts. The line 
won't be in the picture. 


'N the next sound stage, Bing Crosby 
is also starting a new comedy (watch 
the ads for the final title), with Beatrice 
Lillie, Andy Devine and Mary Carlisle 
for company. It marks the re-entry into 
films of Beatrice (Lady Peel) Lillie, who 
has prostrated stage audiences for years. 

The comedy centers around Bing's 
substituting for a policeman-friend of 
his named O'Roon at the home of a 
dizzy millionairess (Bee), who is diz- 
ziest around policemen. We see one of 
their first scenes together, during the 
course of which she introduces him to 
her butler as her "Greek friend, Maca- 
roon" and indulges in other absent- 
minded patter. The sidelines are rimmed 
with grins, but Bee never cracks a smile. 
She is the world's lone "dead-pan" 

Visitors have been barred until now 
from the set of the Carole Lombard- 
Fred MacMurray-John Barrymore com- 
edy about a female Baron Munchausen 
(again, see the ads for the final title). 
But now they are making the trailer. 
The set is open. 

Paramount, trying a new idea in trail- 
ers, is showing alleged behind-the- 
scenes shots of pictures in production. 
Director Wesley Ruggles has to go be- 
fore the camera himself, to say, "Don't 
disappear, Carole. I need you for a 
scene with Mac." And Ruggles muffs 
his one line. 

Carole was hoping for this. From 
behind' a piece of scenery, where it has 
been carefully planted, she trundles a 
large blackboard on which his line is 
scribbled, and places it where he can 
see it but the camera can't. A director 
gets some of his own prompting medi- 

Going on to Warners, we see another 
newcomer in action: Columnist Louella 
Parsons who is playing Columnist Lou- 
ella Parsons in "Hollywood Hotel." And 
very jittery about it, too. 

The setting is the mirror -studded 
apartment of a temperamental movie 
star (Lola Lane), who is putting on her 
best act for an interviewer (Louella). 
Everything is mad confusion in the 
scene. This calls for perfect timing. 
First, Lola blows her lines. Then an- 
other and another. Director Busby 
Berkeley has to shoot and reshoot the 
scene. And, the funniest thing about 
its filming is: the jittery Miss Parsons 
is the only one who doesn't blow her 


HOUGH "The Adventures of Robin 
Hood" is on location 500 miles away, 
waiting for her, Olivia de Havilland still 
is at work in "Gold Is Where You Find 
It," opposite George Brent. We see a 
scene involving a horde of people, Olivia 
included, at a society reception of the 
gold-rush days. 

Michael Curtiz is directing. He is 
famous for his amusing twists to his 
English, as when he once asked for "an 
empty horse," meaning a riderless one. 
Now, after a "take," he says, "No, not 
good. I want it a little more tense." 
Somebody (Olivia?) innocently in- 
quires, "Past or present tense?" There 
is a burst of laughter. Curtiz doesn't 
understand why. In bewilderment, he 

On the set of "Penrod and His Twin 
Brother," starring Billy and Bobby 
Mauch, we see a believe-it-or-not. 
When we arrive, only one boy is in 
sight. We ask our guide which one it 
is. "Billy," he says. "Bobby isn't 
working today." 

Over on the sidelines stands Mrs. 
Mauch, her face a study in mild worry. 
We wonder why. As the scene ends, 
she goes over to Director McGann. He 
makes known what she tells him: 
Billy is sick in bed today with a cold, 
so Bobby has taken his place — with no 
one the wiser until now. McGann grins 
sheepishly. Everyone else, except 
Bobby, grins amazedly. Bobby blushes 
at his mother's giving him away. 

And last but not least, at Samuel 
Goldwyn Studios, Samuel Goldwyn pre- 
sents "The Goldwyn Follies" — a Samuel 
Goldwyn production. (We paraphrase 
the picture credits for "Dead End.") 
This is the first $2,000,000 musical in 
Technicolor. Members of the Press 
treated to glimpses of the first rushes 
vow that it has everything — everything 
from boisterous comedy to grand opera, 
and includes a dozen stars. 

We catch one of the scenes between 
big musical numbers — one of those 
scenes that is the test of any comedy 
with music. 

It is between Adolphe Menjou, play- 
ing a harassed Hollywood producer (a 
bit, just a bit, of a Goldwyn) , and An- 
drea Leeds, playing his country-girl 
protogee. The setting is the small 
kitchen of her small apartment. 

Andrea's hair catches the highlights 
as hair seldom does. The reason: it is 
sprinkled with gold dust. "Taking a tip 
from Dietrich?" we ask. "No — Merle 
Oberon," our guide says. "Merle started 
it. Even uses gold dust as a face pow- 
der sometimes." 

In the scene, Adolphe is trying to 
persuade Andrea to go out with a cer- 
tain gigolo. She refuses. Adolphe ar- 
gues that the man is famous. Andrea 
retorts, "Well, to me love is more im- 
portant than fame." 

Adolphe looks at her a moment in 
mute wonder. Then, to himself, he 
ejaculates, "It's amazing!" 

Thus, Hollywood satirizing Holly- 


A New Cream brings tollmen 

ike 'Active "Skin-Mtamin 

Puts into skin the 

substance that helps to 

make it beautiful 

A. NEW KIND of cream has been developed! 

A cream that puts into women's skin the 
substance that especially helps to make it 
Deautiful — the active "skin-vitamin." 

For years, leading doctors have known how 
this "skin-vitamin" heals skin faster when 
applied to wounds or burns. How it heals skin 
infections. And also how skin may grow 
rough and subject to infections when there is 
lot enough of this "skin-vitamin" in the diet. 

Tests prove benefits in 
beauty creams . . . 

rhen we tested it in Pond's Creams. The results 
■vere favorable! In animal tests, skin that had been 
ough and dry because of "skin-vitamin" deficiency 
n the diet became smooth and supple again — in 
mly 3 weeks! 

Women who had long used Pond's Cold Cream 
:ried the new Pond's Cream with "skin-vitamin" — 
md found it "better than ever." They said that it 
fives skin a bright, clear look; that it keeps skin 
so much smoother. 



Recent tests show that exposure dries the "skin -vitamin" out of skin. 

Mrs. Bailey motors, shoots, rides horseback. "I am so glad to use the 

new Pond's Cold Cream with the 'skin -vitamin'' in it. It keeps my 

skin filter and softer, in sj>ite of all my sports," she says. 

(.center) With a friend, leaving the Plaza after luncheon, 

(.left) Mrs. Bailey skeet shooting at her home in Tuxedo Park. 



Same jars, same labels, same price 

w the new Pond's "skin-vitamin" Cold Cream 
is on sale everywhere — in the same jars, with the 
same labels, at the same price. Use it as before — but 
see how much healthier and freer of faults it makes 
your skin look! 

This new cream brings to your skin the vitamin 
that especially aids in keeping skin beautiful. Not 
the "sunshine" vitamin. Not the orange-juice vita- 
min. But the active "skin-vitamin." 

**> %*»' 




Pond's, Dept. 15-CN, Clinton, Conn. Rush special tube of Pond's 
"skin-vitamin" Cold Cream, enough for 9 treatments, with samples 
of 2 other Pond's "skin-vitamin" Creams and 5 different shades of 
Pond's Face Powder. I enclose 10* to cover postage and packing. 





Copyright. 193T. Pond's Extract Company 


A Girl's Best Friend Is Her Opposite 

(Continued from page 23) 

friendship that offered sincerity and 
sympathy to both Marlene and Joan. 

In those days Ruth Chatterton, a new- 
comer to the screen, was also close to 
Marlene Dietrich. They had hoped — in 
charming ignorance of Hollywood poli- 
tics — that they might remain personal 
friends, even if they were rivals on the 
screen. But when Marlene went to Eu- 
rope, she was dogged everywhere with 
stories Ruth was said to have spread 
about her — unkind stories which had 
their origin in the minds of the tattlers 
themselves. Both stars tried to ignore 
them, but they have been seen together 
little since that time. 

It is an odd thing, but the public mind 
objects to the sight of two charming 
screen rivals getting along. Whenever 
such a friendship develops, trouble- 
makers try to destroy it. The public 
is the actress' boss — and the public has 
evidently chosen to believe that two 
beautiful women can meet only on the 
basis of wishing to claw each other's 
eyes. No matter how amiable the stars 
may feel towards each other, the public 
steps in with malicious stories to make 
the green-eyed myth come true. 

This public prejudice is partially to 
blame for the fact that close friendships 
between ranking women stars are few. 
The American public will permit an 
actress the loyalty of a secretary, of a 
hairdresser, of a woman who would 
break the camera if she ever took a 
screen test. But they have called it un- 
natural that two strikingly handsome 
gals should get along. 

The kind of female friendship of 
which the public approves is Katharine 
Hepburn's and Laura Harding's. Laura 
was, it is true, an actress in her own 
right, but her mild triumphs were 
achieved on the boards of Broadway, 
which Hollywood considers a mere pre- 
liminary to an actress' serious business 
of getting along on the screen. Laura 
Harding understudied Lynn Fontanne 
in "Elizabeth the Queen - ' and acted in 
"Thunder in the Air." Then she met 
Katharine Hepburn and lapsed happily 
into the role of Queen-maker for the 
other girl. 

It was Laura Harding who prevailed 
on Miss Hepburn to leave Broadway 
for awhile and see what Hollywood 
could do for her. She groomed the 
young actress for the West Coast and 
convinced her that it would be wise 
for them both to refuse all invitations 
to parties in the West, being very cool 
and aloof and superior about it. This 
proved an unnecessary bit of strategy, 
as the two were in Hollywood for six 
weeks before anyone asked them out: 
when they got their first invitation, they 
snatched at it "like a hungry trout ris- 
ing to a fly," as Miss Harding tells the 
story now. 

Miss Harding is the daughter of J. 
Horace Harding, chairman of the board 
of the American Railway Express Com- 
pany and the senior partner in the 
banking firm of Charles D. Barney and 
Company. She has a New York debut 
in her past and a Rumson, New Jersey 
house in her present — a retreat to which 
Katharine Hepburn often repairs in a 
carpet-slipper mood. 

Miss Harding is more than a best 
friend — she is guide, philosopher, im- 
presario and accountant for the erratic, 
wayward star. She is the one who 
passes on photographs for publicity. 
She is the one who stage-manages Miss 
Hepburn's new contracts — for more and 
more and more salary each time. She 
helps design the Hepburn costumes and 

coaches the star on her lines; she sits 
in on story conferences and picks guests 
for the Hepburn parties. And when her 
friend leaves Hollywood for a time, she 
is the one who sees to closing the house, 
turning off the refrigerator and check- 
ing that the fire-insurance policy hasn't 


THER stars have close women 
friends who play an important part in 
overseeing their careers — women who 
do many of the things that wives are 
expected to do 'for successful men. Ida 
Lupino's "Bee" is famous in Hollywood 
— she's a husky, throaty lady who will 
stand no nonsense from anyone, and 
certainly not from her employer, whom 
she adores. Bee listens to all of Miss 
Lupino's secrets while she curls her 
hair, types her letters and orders her to 
eat up her carrots. Bee slouches around 
the house in comfortable pajamas and 
addresses the actress with a disrespect- 
ful and affectionate, "Hey!" 

Everyone who knows the movies 
knows about Carole Lombard's "Field- 

Myrna Loy's best friend is her stand- 
in, Shirley Hughes, an old chum who 
was with her at her recent marriage. 
Shirley is the sister-in-law Myrna al- 
most got. Her brother Bob brought 
Shirley around and introduced her to 
Myrna as his best girl friend. Myrna 
and Shirley liked each other instantly 
and even after the romance was over, 
Shirley and Myrna remained fast 
friends, Shirley taking the job as Myr- 
na's stand-in. When Myrna and Arthur 
Hornblow decided to get married, they 
took Shirley along to Ensenada to be 
bridesmaid. At the last minute they 
remembered there were no flowers for 
the bride and Shirley refused to allow 
Myrna to be married without flowers. 
Coaxing Myrna to hold the attention of 
the attendant, Shirley went to work and 
picked all the lovely blooms around the 
garden walk, and made them into a 
beautiful bride's bouquet, while Myrna's 
knees shook, fearing they would be 
snatched into a Mexican jail any min- 

Alice Faye's best friend, Helene 

The Childrens' Hour at the Walter Abels' is a musical 
one. Every night before Michael and Jonathan go 
to bed, Mother plays while Father and sons do-re-mi 

sie" — the secretary, guide, philosopher 
and friend whom Carole acquired when 
they were both working for Mack Sen- 
nett. Since then Carole has concen- 
trated on her career — and Fieldsie on 
the table. Today she weighs in at a 
neat 160 pounds. 

Madeleine Fields holds a tight rein 
over Miss Lombard's pocketbook. The 
actress has very little sales resistance; 
if she had no balance wheel she might 
clutter up her life with dozens of as- 
sorted limousines, Renaissance tables 
made in New Jersey, phoney fox scarves 
and Masterpieces of History in Ten 
Heavy Volumes. But not with Fieldsie 
on the job! 

Fieldsie is a very competent young 
woman on all counts. She used to be a 
"stunt girl" when she was acting her- 
self — you know, the intrepid stand-in 
who took the bumps and bruises and 
pratt-falls which the actresses preferred 
to dodge. She's still stunting — when 
William Powell and Carole Lombard 
were divorced, she retained her friend- 
ship with both wife and husband, and 
that is always a major triumph of tact 
and treatment. Mr. Powell's trust in 
her is so great that it was she who took 
charge of him and his menage when 
Jean Harlow's death shocked him into 

Holmes, fills the same role in her life: 
she, too, arranged the bridal bouquet 
when Miss Faye recently became Mrs. 
Tony Martin. She did more that that 
for Alice, for during that hectic romance 
between Alice and Tony, Helene acted 
as the intermediary, carrying messages 
back and forth and patching up their 
many quarrels. 


HE stand-in-star relationship is often 
cordial: successful women, contrary to 
the general opinion, are generous in 
giving other girls a hoist up the ladder. 
Alice Faye profited enormously from 
the advice of Ethel Merman, who gave 
her pointers on how to sing when Miss 
Faye was understudying her in the 
"George White's Scandals." Miss Faye's 
weakness at that time was a tendency 
to lean to the coy and the cute; Ethel 
Merman sold her the idea that sophisti- 
cation would carry her farther than the 
baby-blue sweetness of those days. 

If friendships between stars of equal 
rating are rare — as the public demands 
— there are many such cases in which 
one woman who has arrived gives an 
apprentice a kindly boost. Have you 
ever heard about Janet Gaynor and 
Margaret Lindsay? 

Janet Gaynor was a girl who knew 
few of the joys of feminine friendship 

until a couple of years ago. She lived 
quietly with her mother, and the 
luncheon table tete-a-tete, the joint ap- 
pointment at the hairdresser, the "cat 
talk" after the party played no part in 
her life. She had a name for being ex- 
clusive and upstage. But she was dis- 
tant only because she was shy. 

Margaret Lindsay appeared on the lot 
in a picture starring Janet Gaynor. She 
was a girl who had her own reasons for 
holding herself aloof from gossip com- 
mentators and photographers and 
friends who might come too close. For 
Margaret Lindsay, at that time, was 
posing as an English-born actress and 
was sedulously hiding the fact that she 
had come from Iowa. It was at the 
height of the American craze for British 
stars: Miss Lindsay was doing her very 
best to impersonate an English girl, 
since English girls were what the 
movies wished. 

When Janet Gaynor first sensed the 
fact that the little "British" girl was 
charming, she found great difficulty in 
breaking down her reserve. A volume 
of Rupert Brooke's poems helped — they 
both loved his poetry. A ridiculous box 
from a florist's, with a single pansy un- 
der layers of tissue paper, made Miss 
Lindsay laugh and thank the star who 
had sent it to her. They became fast 

Janet Gaynor's friendship has helped 
Margaret Lindsay's career immeasur- 
ably. Janet has guided and directed the 
pseudo-British actress at every turn. 
She gave up a vacation to be with her 
friend during an attack of flu. And the 
bread-on-waters has returned. For 
Janet Gaynor's high-pitched voice has 
been lowered almost an octave by as- 
sociation with Margaret Lindsay's con- 
tralto tones — an effect which has made 
the sound director rejoice. Margaret 
Lindsay's friendship has brought Janet 
Gaynor out of her shell and removed 
the barrier of fear across which she 
used to face the world. 

I RIENDSHIPS among women may be 
very fine things, although we have no 
legendary Patroclus and Achilles, David 
and Jonathan as a precedent. Regard, 
for instance, the case of Ruth Chatter- 
ton and Mary Astor, when the going 
was heavy for the latter star. 

During the court fight — during which 
George S. Kaufman is said to have 
started a letter to another girl, "Dear 
Amy and Gentlemen of the Jury" — 
Ruth Chatterton stood staunchly by 
Mary Astor in her trouble. She ad- 
mitted the indiscretion Miss Astor had 
shown in keeping a diary, but said, 
"She shouldn't be pilloried for that." It 
was with Miss Chatterton's help and 
encouragement that Mary Astor per- 
formed her part so well in "Dodsworth." 

Sometimes a crisis is needed to bring 
two Hollywood women together and 
make them forget the mutual distrust 
with which they have been told they 
should greet '11 women who have not 
buck teeth and walleyes. Sometimes 
little things make them friends. 

When Merle Oberon was a lonely, un- 
wanted little girl in Hollywood, with no 
contract and no contacts, she went to a 
party and fell flat on her face on the 
ballroom floor. Her heel had caught in 
her hem and to the guests — connoisseurs 
of comedy, no doubt — it seemed very 
funny, indeed. Norma Shearer caught 
the look of misery in the girl's eyes and 
rushed to her side. A very pleasant 
friendship began then and there. And 
when the two actresses found them- 
selves living in next-door propinquity, 



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their friendship ripened into the over- 
the - garden - wall, come-over-and-bor- 
row-an-egg variety. 

iRIENDS are not often social equals 
in Hollywood, where position is based 
on performance rather than on the 
background into which one was born. 
A Sylvia Sidney from a poor Bronx 
home will outrank a Laura Harding 
from the Social Register out there. It 
is unusual to find such friendships as 
that which prevails between Constance 
Bennett and the Countess Dorothy di 
Frasso (who sailed for Europe last sum- 
mer with Miss Bennett and who enter- 
tained her at her palazzo in Rome) , and 
that between Joan Crawford and Bar- 
bara Stanwyck. The latter were friends 
way back in the days when Joan was 
married to young Doug, and Barbara 
was married to Frank Fay. At that time, 
Barbara lived in Malibu, and the girls 
used to drive back and forth to see each 

Barbara then moved across the street 
from Joan, and, amusingly enough, they 
saw very little of each other at that 
time. This, Joan says, was due to the 
fact that both of them were going 
through a lot of trouble — she with Doug, 
and Barbara with Frank. 

Just after Barbara's separation from 
Frank, she got in touch with Joan about 
buying some tickets for a benefit. Joan 
immediately asked her why she hadn't 
seen her, and the friendship was re- 
sumed. Barbara is now definitely 
Crawford's most intimate stellar friend. 
Tone, Taylor, and. the two girls make 
a frequent combination at the night 

It is even rarer to find a moving-pic- 
ture star on friendly terms with the 
wife of a member of the screen colony. 
Many charming women who have ac- 

companied their husbands to Hollywood 
gnash their teeth over a social atmos- 
phere in which the lowest "dress chor- 
us" girl outranks a charming and dis- 
criminating hostess who has no traffic 
with the films. 

But Loretta Young has as her closest 
intimate one of these Untouchables of 
the colony — Josephine Wayne, the beau- 
tiful young wife of John Wayne. Before 
her marriage this attractive woman was 
Josephine Saenz, daughter of the Do- 
minican Consul at Los Angeles and a 
popular member of the diplomatic set. 

Sometimes these friendships between 
Hollywood celebrities go back to the 
days when they were cooking over gas 
burners in old, down-at-the-heel room- 
ing houses and spending their days in 
offices where signs always read "No 
Casting Today." Grace Moore and Jane 
Draper became fast friends in days like 
those: at one time Miss Moore was un- 
derstudy to Julia Sanderson in "Hitchy- 
Koo" and Jane Draper had a minor — a 
very minor— role in the play. They 
were girls from conservative back- 
grounds, both aware of a whole battery 
of disapproving relatives sniffing at the 
"vulgarity" of stage careers. 

Miss Moore's chance to play the lead, 
because of the star's illness, gave her a 
start towards an existence in which 
butlers and polo-playing friends are 
taken for granted. She was so thrilled 
over the prospect of singing the lead 
that she had Jane Draper telephone her 
friends to be sure to attend the matinee 
and watch her debut-dust. Later, al- 
though she was still living on an under- 
study's small salary, she and Jane gave 
a gay and gala party in a rented hotel 

Jane Draper found the picaresque, 
uncertain existence of the stage less 
congenial to her temperament than 

marriage and retirement from a career. 
Grace Moore swung on to giddier and 
greater heights. But their friendship 
has been strong through the years, and 
it even survived a difficult phase when 
they were both engaged in setting their 
caps for a romantic Italian beau. 


J PS and downs, failures and breaks 
worthy of "Stage Door" and its gallant 
heroines have marked the friendship of 
Isabel Jewell and Gertrude Michael. 
These two met in the early, hungry days 
of their careers when they lived in ad- 
joining apartments in New York's 
Greenwich Village on thirty cents a 
day. They hunted out cheap restau- 
rants and made one order of spaghetti 
do for two. They wangled matinee 
tickets and hid under the seats, so as to 
see the evening performance free. Then 
Miss Michael was given a heaven-sent 
chance to work in Hollywood, and she 
caught the train — with seven dollars in 
the world! As the car pulled from the 
station she heard Isabel's cheerful fare- 
well: "I'll be there in two weeks!" 
Through a remarkable bit of luck, she 

In Hollywood the two girls had many 
vicissitudes. At a moment when one 
was in demand and being feted grandly 
the other was usually close to starva- 
tion. A few months, and the situation 
would be reversed. More than once, 
each of them was on the verge of giv- 
ing up. In such crises, their friendship 
was an invaluable prop. 

Some of the women stars have strong 
family feeling and have made a place 
in Hollywood for their relatives. Ginger 
Rogers brought her cousin, Phyllis 
Fraser, to Hollywood a few years ago 
and put her through an arduous course 
of dance training before she would let 
her try for her first screen test. Her 

advice and help are making things far 
easier for her protege, Marie Osborne. 
Ginger Rogers' mother wrote scenarios 
for the screen. Mrs. Rogers more than 
once wrote pictures around the "Baby 
Marie" who is now her daughter's chief 
aide and confidante. 

There are women in Hollywood's most 
spectacular circles who hunt in packs 
■ — girls who shop together and bridge 
together and have hen parties, like so 
many suburban housewives. Dolores 
Del Rio, Fay Wray, Virginia Bruce and 
Mrs. Gary Cooper are such a team. So 
are Anne Shirley, Paula Stone, Jacque- 
line Wells, Phyllis Fraser and Lana 


IOLLYWOOD, after all, is a small 
town and a woman friend in Hollywood, 
like anywhere else, is a very handy 
thing to have around the house. She will 
spring to your defense into those bitter 
drawing-room encounters, of which the 
most doting man is usually unaware. 
She will contradict the nasty rumors 
that get tangled up with your name. 

She'll tell you — if she's really fond of 
you — that you look like hell in emerald 
green and that the lamb of a young man 
in the offing is really after you for your 
money. She will also lie for you like 
a Spartan, if the need occurs, and will 
understand when your fit of hysterics 
calls for a handkerchief dipped in eau 
de cologne — and when it needs a pitcher 
of cold water thrown in the face! 

Hollywood stars do not deny them- 
selves many of the good things of the 
earth. Those among them who have 
balance and good sense have discovered 
that a sympathetic and reasonably loyal 
woman friend is a shade more important 
to their well-being than an ermine eve- 
ning wrap. And that, in Hollywood, is 
saying a great deal. 

ollywoods Junior Legion 

(Continued from page 67) 

rowed glass tank. (Marilyn Knowlden 
said she and Ann Gillis would do the 
cleaning tomorrow.) 

Juanita looked sweet yesterday. She 
had on a navy-blue dress with big white 
buttons down the side and white collar 
and cuffs, and a little white pique hat. 
She had just come from the studio. We 
went outside and looked at the fish 
pond. Then we sat talking in the gar- 
age until Betty Jean Harney and David 
Holt came along. Then we went in the 
kitchen and had tea. David puts three 
lumps of sugar in a little toy cup of 
tea and actually drinks the mixture! 

We had quite a party. Betty Jean 
makes the grandest cinnamon toast. It 
was cool and we didn't want to carry 
in wood for the fireplace, so we stayed 
in the kitchen and moved the table 
out of the breakfast room. After tea, 
we read the letters that you've all been 
so kind to write to us, until almost six 
o'clock. The children all collect stamps 
so every time we opened a letter from 
a foreign country there is a slight ar- 
gument over who should have the stamp 
that comes on it. But David and Betty 
Jean are reasonable, so it was settled 
peaceably on each occasion. 

I think David likes Betty Jean's beau- 
tiful blonde curls. She is eleven now, 
and getting prettier every day. David, 
being a real boy, showed his admira- 
tion by speaking of Betty Jean as a 
"dizzy blonde" every time he mentioned 


E all went out to the Fox Studios 
to present Shirley Temple with the 
Junior Legion Cross of Honor. The 

medal has four famous citations, one 
of them from the President of the United 

It was a solemn occasion. Shirley, in 
her little checked brown coat and beret, 
stood there very, very seriously. We 
couldn't get her to smile until we asked 
her to pose with the medal. If you'd 
like the picture for your collection, be 
sure to read the little paragraph at the 
end of this story. 

Shirley is the first child ever to re- 
ceive the Junior Legion Cross. It is 
given once a year, for valiant achieve- 
ment, to a child under seventeen years 
of age. We all agreed that Shirley 
should be the first to have it. Who do 
you think should have it next time? 
It is really called the Andrew S. Rowan 
Cross of Honor and was named in honor 
of Major Rowan, who carried the 
famous "Message to Garcia" during the 
Spanish-American war, thereby becom- 
ing a living symbol of Honor and Cour- 
age and Obedience. 

The Junior Legion has been dreamy- 
eyed and noble-looking ever since. 
Marilyn Knowlden and Ann Gillis 
watered the garden without being told, 
and Bonita Granville and Ann got out 
the lawn mower and literally drenched 
it with sewing-machine oil. 

Bonita, in spite of the fact that she 
plays meanie roles on the screen, is the 
most amiable of all the Legionnaires. 
She has a sweet, quiet disposition and 
never quarrels over anything. She likes 
to pour the tea formally and use the 
"different" teacups. 

The "different" teacups are a collec- 
tion that we've made. Every once in 

awhile, somebody used to give us an 
odd teacup and saucer. We have six- 
teen now, all entirely different. The 
boys made us a cabinet with glass doors 
to keep them in. On special occasions, 
each child is allowed to choose his or 
her own teacup. Sometimes we close 
our eyes and choose. Bonita always 
takes a pale pink one with hand- 
painted forget-me-nots around the 
edge, and Bobby Breen chooses one 
with a pirate on the side because he 
says it always brings him good fortune 
when we read the tea leaves. 


IRGINIA WEIDLER, Jane Isbell and 
I searched the garage again this morn- 
ing to look for the Ping-pong balls. 
Virginia and Jane, dressed in play suits, 
got lots of scratches on their legs and 
arms from climbing over boxes and 
crates. I forgot we were going to Co- 
lumbia Studios in the afternoon, to 
watch Edith Fellows in some scenes for 
her new starring picture, and put iodine 
all over the bumps. Jane and Virginia 
were sights. The iodine wouldn't come 
off because I couldn't rub hard enough 
on account of the scratches. They 
yelled, "Ouch!" before I even touched 
them. Virginia said, "Really Marianne, 
this is almost enough to make a person 
temperamental ! " 

Honestly, they looked like something 
you'd pay to see in a circus. When we 
got to the studio, Edith laughed so hard 
she could scarcely go on with her scenes. 
She was playing the part of a very 
spoiled child, which she isn't really. 
She's quiet and likes best to sew and 
play with dolls. She has a remarkable 

singing voice. Edith, who lives with 
her grandmother, a charming lady, goes 
to school on the Columbia lot. 

Once I asked her what she'd like for 
Christmas. "Books and dolls," she an- 
swered promptly. "Dolls because I love 
them and books because I want to learn 
nice words. Grandmother says if I cul- 
tivate a taste for the best books she'll 
never have to worry about my educa- 

I thought of that a long time, little 
readers, and then I thought of some- 
thing else. If some writer could be 
given the right words to write, then the 
pen would be mightier than the sword, 
and we'd never hear talk of war and 
hatred among nations. Let's all think 
about that and hope that some day a 
writer will be inspired with the right 
words to write. I wish it might be I. 

Next month we're going to tell you 
about a new contest. Little Billy Lee 
thought of it all by himself. We'll have 
more Junior albums for prizes. We 
hope those of you who won prizes in 
the last contest liked the albums and 
we're sorry there isn't space to print 
your names. 

Don't forget, if you'd like a free snap- 
shot of Shirley Temple with the Junior 
Legion Cross of Honor, just write me 
a letter enclosing a self-addressed 
STAMPED envelope and I will mail it 
to you. The address is Marianne, c/o 
PHOTOPLAY Magazine, 7751 Sunset 
Blvd., Hollywood, Calif. 

P. S. If the Junior Legion ever gets 
the back yard cleaned up I'll tell you 
about it. 


Roundup of Youth 


And now Sam Goldywn plays his 
trump card. (Wouldn't you know Gold- 
wyn would do it?) For all those 
cheers, those sighs, those cries by the 
fair maidens of the land are for young 
Jon Hall. The man who took the starch 
out of Taylor and the sex out of Gable. 
A brown-eyed giant, just six feet two, 
and weighing 195 pounds. 

He was born in San Francisco, but his 
boyhood was spent on the South Sea 
Islands. Went to Switzerland and Eng- 
land to school but came back to Amer- 
ica to look for a job. 

"You should be in movies," was the 
only answer he ever got. So he went 
into movies. Goldwyn spotted him and 
"Hurricane" got him. He has two moles 
on his chin. No one ever looks at his 
chin. His hair curls around his ears. 
No one looks at his ears, either. He 
has brains as well as brawn. But no 
one ever thinks of his brains. Sings like 
a wild man. Goes into "The Goldwyn 
Follies" next. Destined to be that new 
discovery of 1938- 


That blonde lovely on the back of the 
magazine, flaunting a cigarette — was 
Lucille Ball. Too, too blase for words. 
The girl who modeled Carnegie's latest 
creation in New York for the pleasure 
of Madame — was Lucille Ball. Too 
sophisticated for any use whatsoever. 
The girl who wears a pair of old slacks 
and rides hell-bent for heaven on a 
worn-out bicycle around a Hollywood 
movie lot — is Lucille Ball. As she real- 
ly is. A tomboy with a showgirl 
chassis. In costume pictures, directors 
have to watch her like a hawk. She 
will wear slacks under hoop skirts and 
act on the trapeze between scenes. 

All her life she's dreamed of being 
twenty-five. Not twenty-one or thirty- 
two but twenty-five. So things would 
happen. Lucille is just twenty-five, and 
things have happened, including "Stage 
Door," Ginger Rogers' friendship, and 
director Al Hall for a beau. 

Sam Goldwyn brought Lucille to Hol- 
lywood as one of New York's famous 
models to carry Connie Bennett's train 
in "The Affairs of Cellini." Lucille also 
carried two black-and-blue marks 
where she fell off the camera crane. 
She won't keep off things. Never has. 
Born in Butte, Montana, her family 
moved to New York where Lucille went 
to school. Lucille moved the family to 
Hollywood.when movies "yoo-hooed" in 
her direction. 

Studied diction under Ginger Rogers' 
mother, Lela, and gained a role in a 
Little Theater play. Was immediately 
cast in New York production of "Stage 
Door"; then RKO decided they needed 
Lucille for the movie version. Her first 
real break came in "That Girl From 
Paris" where Lucille made a hit falling 
in unladylike sprawls during a comedy 
dance. She wondered what Hattie 
would think of her un-Carnegie-like 
behavior. But didn't care much. 

Remains a staunch friend of Kathar- 
ine Hepburn's despite the storms and 
strife that beset a friendship with Katie. 
Honest with herself and others, Lucille 
can detect a phony two miles away. 
And thinks nothing of wiping egg off 
a producer's chin. Right in the com- 
missary. Before people. 

Her next movie is "Having Wonderful 
Time." Lucille always has a wonderful 
time — even when she sold hot dogs to 
nut herself through school. 

(Continued from page 69) 

Chances to make good as a screen 
comedian — a good eighty percent. We 
take off twenty percent for the trapeze 


Born in Japan, she never wears a 
kimona. But adores soft cashmere 
sweaters in baby blue. Wears sweaters 
and a one-sided smile nearly all the 
time. Came to California when just a 
baby and lived there ever since. Ex- 
cept one year when she went back to 
school to Japan. Was ill all through 
childhood — which has driven her com- 
pletely within herself. She took an in- 
telligence test at Stanford University 
when she was three years old — was 
given a grade of 160 (genius rating!). 
Joan has a heart-shaped face, much 
smaller than it appears on the screen. 
Her hair is blonde and straight. With- 
out a wisp of a curl in sight. Doesn't 
want to be known as the sister of a cer- 
tain beautiful star. 

Loves attic bedrooms with sloped 
ceilings and always reads when she 
walks. And vice versa. Sometimes 
pausing under a tree for a page or two. 
Has an enormous appetite and light 
freckles under her left eye. Eyes are 
hazel-brown. So are freckles. 

Ambition burns and eats like a living 
coal within. Arose every morning at 
four during the making of "A Damsel 
in Distress" to practice dancing so Fred 
Astaire wouldn't need to dance with a 
double. He didn't. 

Started out in life to be an artist. 
School plays started her off as an ac- 
tress. A part in "Call It A Day" on a 
Hollywood stage gained the attention of 
Jesse Lasky who placed her in pictures. 
Evincing unusual ability in a bit role in 
"Quality Street" she was cast opposite 
John Beal in "The Man Who Found 
Himself." "You Can't Beat Love," was 
her next; "Music for Madame" her 
latest. She's so afraid girls won't like 
her in "A Damsel in Distress" because 
she turns down Mr. Astaire. She suf- 
fers when she thinks of it. Has a ter- 
rific inferiority complex and a way of 
drawing her brows together that's cap- 
tivating. Loves to cook fancy dishes 
but wouldn't give a dime a dozen for 
boys. The play's the thing with Joan. 

After each picture drives up to 
her little home town of Saratoga, 
California, just to keep her world well- 

Watch For It in 

One of the most amazing pieces 
of fiction ever presented — 






one of the foremost writers 
of murder-fiction mysteries 


Now for M-G-M's gentle-eyed buck- 
ing broncho — young Eddie Norris. 

From Culver Military Academy, 
where he learned to ride standing up, 
Eddie went to Philadelphia and be- 
came a reporter, where he learned to 
eat — standing up. While he was prying 
behind stage wings for news, the show 
bug hit him and the Little Theater got 
him. So did Hollywood, eventually. 
But not before he washed dishes in 
restaurants and chauffeured plump 
women with double chins and Chow- 
chow puppies. 

His brown eyes seldom smile, his face 
is darkly quiet, but Vesuvius itself has 
nothing on him for inward seething. 
His big chance came in Mervyn LeRoy's 
"They Won't Forget." He was featured 
also in "Between Two Women." 

He's married to Ann Sheridan, owns 
an old Mexican adobe ranch house out 
in the Valley, made his own swimming 
pool, even to mixing the cement. Eddie 
doesn't have to work. Eddie's papa left 
him money. Wants to be the steady- 
going, Jack Holt type of actor. His 
chances to outlast Taylor — ten to one 
is our guess. 


Warner's prize winner in the round- 
up is that throaty-voiced Gloria Dick- 
son who made her initial screen ap- 
pearance in "They Won't Forget." 
Hollywood hasn't been able to forget 

From an understanding father who 
died when Gloria was ten she inherited 
ideas; and the courage and background 
for progress. It cost two pins to see 
Gloria perform "Dot the Miner's Daugh- 
ter" or "One Glass of Wine" in the back 
yard of her Idaho home. It will cost 
us much more when Gloria really gets 
going. She had to be yanked out of 
the cast of "Submarine D-l" because 
her startling dramatic performance 
made some of the others look like 

Came to movies through Little 
Theater work in Los Angeles. Moved 
to Long Beach with her mother after 
her father's death. Then she studied 
with dramatic coaches. In trying to 
forget she once gave recitations with 
gestures and music (heaven help us!) 
over the radio. Feels acting is but a 
symbolism of life and that an actress 
should never become a thing apart 
from that bit of life she plays. 

Knits sweaters, paints rather well, 
loves to carve wood, and models in 
clay. It's well to use one's hands as 
well as one's mind, Gloria claims. 
Seems much taller on the screen than 
she really is. Has natural blonde hair; 
blue eyes; is twenty years old; isn't 
pretty; calm always, even when acting. 
Especially when acting, as a matter of 
fact. Chances for success — a good A 


That soft-voiced, brown-eyed young 
man out at Twentieth Century-Fox is 
Tom Beck. Tom pranced into Holly- 
wood with a degree from Johns Hop- 
kins University (as an engineer, not a 
doctor) , a contract with Fox and little 
else but a swell signet ring and a don't- 
shove-me-around attitude. He was 
immediately shoved around. No one 
met him on his arrival in Los Angeles 
or knew who he was at the studio — 
or cared. On top of that it kept raining 
all the time. For a year and a half 


long the finest and 
fastest daily train to 


For years the favorite transconti- 
nental train of Hollywood's movie 
producers and stars, and alone in 
its field as the hours-fastest and 
only extra-fare daily train between 
Chicago and Los Angeles, the 
Chief is being dressed anew this 
winter from end to end • With 
delivery of car after car of their 
new light-weight equipment, 
sheathed in gleaming stainless 
steel, the six regular trains of the 
daily Chief are gradually acquir- 
ing the matchless beauty and com- 
fort of the famous Super Chief. 


This superb extra-fare train, Diesel drawn 
and streamlined in stainless steel, strictly 
first-class and but 39J4 hours between 
Chicago and los Angeles, attained in- 
stant and continuing popularity among 
discriminating California travelers — for 
its roominess and beauty of appoint- 
ment, its speed and smooth-riding comfort. 

• Again this winter, four times 
each week, the Chief will carry 
a through Phoenix Pullman 
from Chicago, and there will be 
splendid service to and from San 
Bernardino, for Palm Springs, via 
both the Super Chief and Chief. 


A perennial favorite for 40 years, the 
solid-Pullman California Limited, without 
extra fare, is another fine Santa Fe daily 
train between Chicago and California. 


This winter, via Santa Fe . . . more all- 
expense California tours of exceptional 
value and interest, all including diversified 
side-trips by motor, and strictly first-class 
accommodations at hotels and en route. 

Our representatives will gladly handle 
the details of any California or South- 
western trip you may plan for this winter. 



& /■: 

y M 

'</ 1937-1938 £% 

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1938 style."Suez" — harmonizes with browns, 
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Both in perfect taste. Exclusive with Revlon. 
You will like them. Men admire them. 

And for Christmas gifts — 1938 style — 
manicure sets by Revlon. From $1.75 to 
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zyd^k^opt d<^iqkt - 


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l);ii*l in; 

I have already written a book called No 
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if you'll but read what Mama has to tell 

That Magic Touch 

My new book Pull Yourself Together, 
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develop glamour — that magic touch which 
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And, darling, make no mistake about glam- 
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producers forced him to play extras, 
usually with a cold in his head. He 
emerged from this obscurity by way of 
Charlie Chan pictures. 

Tom is a gentle-spoken product of the 
Little Theater back East who thinks a 
Hollywood actor should be a combina- 
tion businessman and actor, with lean- 
ings to the artistic side. Even knocked 
one producer for a loop by turning down 
a part with the words, "No thanks, I 
look like hell in a costume." 

His mind is quick; his intelligence 
rates a good ninety-five percent (five 
percent off for being an actor) ; his 
chances a fair seventy-five percent. 
He feels he has this to offer — intelli- 
gence, with both an intuitive and 
practical knowledge of good acting. 

One of the best-read lads in town, his 
brown eyes glow at the mention of 
books. Lives with his sister at Hermosa 
Beach, wears white suits beautifully, 
does the night clubs seldom, girly-girls 
around a bit and drinks but little. But 
when he does his sister astounds him 
by snorting "You drunkard." 

His latest picture, "Heidi," with — 
guess who — Shirley Temple. 


A dark horse, but what a honey, is 
M-G-M's Henry Daniell. Henry is a 
poker-faced misanthrope. Like all 
"against-most-everything" people, he's 
delightful. His face is like a winter day. 
Late in January. His smile a quick, 
stingy peep of sun. Gone before it 
really warms. He's funny without try- 
ing to be. 

Hollywood and interviewers upset 
him. Claims interviewers always brand 
him as the man who loathes marmalade, 
when he doesn't loathe it at all. Or, 
darn it all, when he doesn't even give 
marmalade so much as a thought. 
Which should give you some idea of 

He's against Hollywood in part. And 
its climate. Declares he gets even too 
lazy here to resent black widow spiders, 
movie producers, or anything, for that 
matter. Can't understand why Holly- 
wood insists upon his playing heavies. 
On New York and London stages he's 
known as the smoothest farceur of his 
kind. His kind is scarce. Even Garbo 
screamed at one of his M-G-M comedy 
tests. And immediately chose him as 
the sour-puss count in "Camille." 

In a way, Daniell is a mystery man. 
Even his own studio knows that. He's 
a writer of note, but writes under an- 
other name. And no one knows what 
it is. Knows his Bible like nobody's 
business, which is also mysteriously 
confusing to M-G-M. 

Has fewer friends here than in his 

native England, and has practically 
none in England. Never gives a tup- 
pence which side wins any game. Is 
married to an Englishwoman. Never 
goes anywhere. Just to bed around 
nine. Quietly tells people on sets how 
the scenes should be played. They're 
played Henry's way. Latest picture is 
"Madame X." When and if Hollywood 
discovers Henry's brittle sophisticated 
sense of humor we predict a Henry 
Daniell landslide. 


To Sam Goldwyn's smart round-up 
entry, Miss Andrea Leeds, belongs the 
most luscious pair of brown eyes in 
Hollywood. But she's more famous as 
the girl who, after her first picture, 
"Come and Get It," refused a certain 
role in Goldwyn's next. Was Goldwyn 
mad! And Andrea determined! And 
did she get slapped down! However, 
she's back in the Goldwyn studio after 
a grand part in RKO's "Stage Door," 
and maybe, mind you, Gary Cooper's 
new screen sweetie will be brown-eyed 

Andrea Leeds is still another argu- 
ment that screen starlets are well-bred, 
intelligent, talented young women, who 
are seeking, not cheap glamour and 
easy money, but a career. 

Her life has been like a movie. Kid- 
nap threats by remnants of Pancho 
Villa's wandering bandits drove her to 
Hollywood. This is how it happened: 
Her father was a mining engineer in 
old Mexico. They lived ninety-five 
miles from the nearest town. Her girl- 
hood was spent riding over Mexican 
plains, running from bandits who, de- 
spite movie versions of the type, smelled 
badly and had no more romantic appeal 
than a piece of garlic. Then came the 
kidnap threats that sent her to Cali- 
fornia, where she graduated from U. C. 
L. A. A talent scout spotted her in a 
college play and Howard Hawks signed 
her. Sam Goldwyn bought her contract 
from Hawks. 

Andrea is an only child and lives with 
her family, who have moved to Cali- 
fornia. Is one of the smartest dressed 
girls in Hollywood. Wears a black cross 
about her neck. Writes poetry, loves 
poetic prose, swims, rides, plays slot 
machines and feels she's overpaid. 

Is more beautiful off screen than on. 
Has three dogs and a cat that live 
peaceable together. Loves to try out 
fancy recipes and is really a whiz of a 
spaghetti cooker. She has courage and 
feels she can handle any part the studio 
gives her. Wants to marry in five years. 
Her parents' beautiful marriage has 
given her hope. Star material if ever 
we spotted it. 

ACTS OF CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24. 1912, AND MARCH 3. 1933, of PHOTOPLAY, published monthly 
at Chicago, Illinois, for October 1, 1937. 
State of New York Iss. 
County of New York J 

Before me. a notary public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Ruth Waterbury, 
who. having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that she is the Editor of the PHOTO- 
PLAY and that the following is, to the best of her knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, 
management (and if a daily paper, the circulation), etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the 
above caption, required by the Act of August 24. 1912, as amended by the Act of March 3, 1933, embodied in 
section 537, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to wit: 

1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business managers are 
Publisher, Macfadden Publications, Inc., Chanin Bldg., 122 E. 42d St., New York City; Editor, Ruth Water- 
bury, Chanin Bldg.. 122 E. 42d St., New York City; Managing Editor, None; Business Managers, None. 

2. That the owner is: (If owned by a corporation, its name and address must be stated and also immedi- 
ately thereunder the names and addresses of stockholders owning or holding one per cent or more of total 
amount of stock. If not owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of the individual owners must be 
given. If owned by a firm, company, or other unincorporated concern, its name and address, as well as those 
of each individual member, must be given.) Owner: Macfadden Publications, Inc., Chanin Bldg., 122 E. 42d 
St., New York City. Stockholders in Macfadden Publications, Inc . Bernarr Macfadden Foundation, Inc., 
Chanin Bldg., 122 E. 42d St., New York City; Bernarr Macfadden, Englewood, New Jersey. 

3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or 
more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If there are none, so state.) None. 

4 That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, 
if any, contain not only the list of stockholders and security holders as they appear upon the books of the com- 
pany, but also, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as 
trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting, 
is given; also that the said two paragraphs contain statements embracing affiant's full knowledge and belief as 
to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the 
books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner; 
and this affiant has no reason to believe that any other person, association, or corporation has any interest 
direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or other securities than as so stated by her. 

5. That the average number of copies of each issue of this publication sold or distributed, through the 

mails or otherwise, to paid subscribers during the twelve months preceding the date shown above is 

(This information is required from daily publications only ) 

Sworn to and subscribed before me this 21st day of October, 1937. 


Notary Public in and for the County of Los Angeles. 

State of California. 

Commission expires March 31st, 1940. 







PHOTOPLAY fashions on pages 56 and 57 of the Fashion 
Section in this issue are available to readers at these stores. 

Whenever you go shopping consult this list of reliable stores, offering faithful copies of PHOTOPLAY HOLLYWOOD 
FASHIONS and NATIONALLY KNOWN MERCHANDISE, such as advertised in this issue of PHOTOPLAY. If this 
list does not include a store in your city, write MODERN MERCHANDISING BUREAU, 67 West 44th St., New York 
City. Send the name of your leading department store or dress shop. When you shop please mention PHOTOPLAY. 



Burger Phillips Co Birmingham 

Dunnavant's H untsvile 

Reiss Bros Mobile 

A. Nachman ' . Montgomery 

Marble City D. G. Co Sylaconga 


The Vogue Phoenix 

Gertrude Rubin Shop Tucson 


Morris & Co El Dorado 

Boston Store Fort Smith 

Nossek's Little Rock 


Malcolm Brock Co Bakersfleld 

Rubaloff's Hollywood 


Morton's ■ ■ Denver 

H. Moses & Son Trinidad 


Weil's Meriden 

Lynch Shop'...' Norwalk 

M. Moltasch & Sons. Inc Stamford 

Freedman's, Inc Waterbury 

Woodward & Lothrop Washington 


Kitty Pope Daytona Beach 

Blocker's Ocala 

Bon Marche Pensacola 

The Vogue, Inc Tallahassee 

Kominer's West Palm Beach 


Goldberg's Augusta 

Kiralfy's Columbus 

Mayson's Macon 

The Marjen Shop Savannah 

E. C. Oliver Co Statesboro 


Davids Moscow 

Monow Retail Store Wallace 


Lietz & Grometer Aurora 

A. Livingston & Sons Bloomington 

Dresp Well Shops Charleston 

Newman's Decatur 

Ducker's Joliet 

New York Store Moline 

Marcey's, Inc Oak Park 

Klein's Peoria 

Newman's * Waukegan 

Fashion Shop West Frankfort 


Freund's (Morton Roth, Inc.) Anderson 

Schultz's Evansville 

Frank's Fort Wayne 

Hillman's Indianapolis 

Wolf's Apparel Shop Kokomo 

The Hat Box Marion 

Russell H. Kramer Michigan City 

Ellsworth's South Bend 

Silver Specialty Shop Terre Haute 


Newman Merc. Co Cedar Rapids 

Abrahams Davenport 

Newman's Cloak Co Des Moines 


Newman's Pittsburgh 

Allen W. Hinkel Co Wichita 


The Parsons-Faulkner Co Ashland 

Stella Schneider Fort Thomas 

Boston Store H azard 

Mitchell Baker Smith Co Lexington 

Wolfson's Paducah 


New Palais Royal Lake Charles 

Bella Scherck Davidson Monroe 

Raye's Ready to Wear Shreveport 


Miriam Wardwell Shop Bangor 

J. Unobsky Calais 

The Hat &■ Frock Shoppe. Lewiston 


Scher's Pocomoke City 

R. E. Powell Co Salisbury 


Maurice Gordon Boston 

Touraine Glove Corp Boston 

Sheehan Shop Holyoke 

Katherine C. Mack Lowell 

Imperial Shops North Adams 

Madame Fillion Pittsfleld 


The Style Shop Lansing 

Arthur's Pontiac 

Winkclman's Port Huron 


M. C. Albenberg Duluth 

Newman's St. Paul 


Fine Bros.-Matison Co Laurel 

Marks- Rothenherg Meridian 

L. Small Winona 

Suzanne's Columbia 


Braten's Bozeman 

Ed. Marans Butte 

The Paris Fligman Co Great Falls 

Haines Style Shop Missoula 


Mellry, Inc Manchester 


Borenstein Bros Silver City 


Joseph Elfman Atlantic City 

Ada Shop. . . East Orange 

Joyce Shop Elizabeth 

M. Epstein Morristown 

Nathan's New Brunswick 

Belle's Fashion Shop Passaic 

Mikola's Paterson 

Town & Country Shop Red Bank 

Jenny Banta Ridgewood 


John G. Myers Albany 

Kalet's Auburn 

Sisson Bros. Weldon Co.. Binghamton 

Alice R. Farrell Canandaigua 

E. Hazel Murphy Elmira 

Merkel & Gelman Glens Falls 

L. C. Suit & Coat Co Hornell 

Mary B. Cole Hudson 

H. Karch Ithaca 

LaMode Jamestown 

Hall's Fashion Shop Lockport 

Nathan Frank's Ogdensburg 

Lynch Robertson Penn Yan 

Mantell & Martin Port Chester 

Boekel Shop Poughkeepsie 

Kroll's Rochester 

Imperial Cloak Co Schenectady 

Doyle Knower Utica 

The Mabel Bentley Shoppe Watertown 


B. Sellers & Sons Burlington 

Efird's Dept. Store Charlotte 

C. Hober Forbes Greenville 

Lizzie Gooch High Point 

E. J. Ellisberg Raleigh 

Rosenbloom-Levy Rocky Mount 

Dona- Ana Salisbury 

Mrs. Hayes Shop..... Southern Pines 

Rosenbaum's Tarboro 

Belk Williams Co Wilmington 

Arcade Fashion Shop Winston-Salem 


Shaw Rogers Company Akron 

Spring Holzworth Alliance 

Davis & Co Cambridge 

Lepof's Cincinnati 

Lillian's Cincinnati 

C. Zimmerman Cleveland 

Field's (Spaier's Inc.) Dayton 

Mayer's, Inc Hamilton 

Betty Lawlor Shop Lakewood 

The Leader Lima 

The Hub Steubenville 

Rucklos Shop Van Wert 

House of Fashion Warren 

Abrahams Youngstown 


Baum's Ardmore 

Eagle Merc. Co Chickasha 

Newman Merc. Co Enid 

The Vogue Lawton 


Dorothy Winter Bala-Cynwood 

Edrie McKee Shop Beaver Falls 

Barton's Fashion Shop Bedford 

Judy Miller Shop Danville 

Mrs. Raphael Morris Greensburg 

Martin's Johnstown 

Cox's McKeesport 

F. C. Menapace Mount Carmel 

Elizabeth Jones Olyphant 

Scranton D. G. Co Scranton 

Arthur Lewis Stores. Inc Sharon 

Polly Jane Shop Somerset 

Schlow's Quality Shop State College 

Rosenblum's Sunbiiry 

Rosenbaum's Uniontown 

E. L. Stein Warren 

Brozman's Williamsport 

Paris Corset Shop Wilkes- Barre 

Gilman's Reading 


Lee's Dress Shop Providence 

The Misses Frank Providence 


Hat & Gown Shop Charleston 

May Bond Simpson Columbia 

Hendrickson's Darlington 

Furchgott's Florence 

Rasor 4V Clardy Mullins 

Aug. W. Smith Spartanburg 


Miller's Knoxville 

Goldstein's Murfreesboro 


Ernest Grissom's Abilene 

Regent's Amarillo 

Goodfriend's Spec. Shop Austin 

Wendel's, Inc Dallas 

Monnig D. G. Co Fort Worth 

Marks Bros Sherman 

The Mayfair Shop San Antonio 

The Nadine Ogden 

Collin's, Inc Salt Lake City 

W. G. Reynolds Burlington 

Chas. Sterns Rutland 


L. Herman Danville 

Jos. Ney & Sons Co Harrisonburg 

Ames & Brownley Norfolk 

The Smart Shop Norton 

Pocahontas Colliery Shop Pocahontas 

Natalie Shoppe Roanoke 

Helen's Dress Shop Wytheville 

Delman's Seattle 


Rahall's .• Beckley 

Jolliffe's Store of Shops Grafton 

Smart Shop Huntington 

Yarid's Spec. Shop Lewisburg 

The Floradora Shoppe Morgantown 

Nobby's Williamson 


Cinderella Frocks Madison 

Milwaukee Cloak & Suit Co Milwaukee 

Curtis Co Honolulu 



A. Nachman Montgomery 


May Company Los Angeles 

Hale Bros Sacramento 

O'Connor. Moffatt & Co San Francisco 


Fashion Millinery Bridgeport 

Sage Allen .Hartford 

C. 0. Miller Stamford 

Woodward & Lothrop Washington 

Rutland Bros St. Petersburg 


Davison Paxon Atlanta 

Maysons Macon 

Leopold Adler : Savannah 


Dress Well Shop Charleston 

Carson Pirie Scott &. Co Chicago 

C. B. Blakely La Salle 

Clarke & Co Peoria 

The New Worthams Rockford 

Palais Royal Lafayette 


M. L. Parker Co Davenport 

Younker Bros Des Moines 


The Vogue Ft. Scott 

The United Milly Co Wichita 


B. B. Smith & Co Lexington 

Brinckerhoff, Inc Louisville 


New Palais Royal Lake Charles 

D. H. Holmes New Orleans 

Abdalla's Opelousas 

MARYLAND Bros Baltimore 

Grover Cronin, Inc Waltham 


J. L. Hudson Detroit 

Siegel's Grand Rapids 

R. E. Kennington Jackson 

Stix Baer & Fuller &. Co St. Louis 

Hennessy Co Butte 

Thorn. Kilpatrick Co Omaha 


L. Bamberger & Co. Newark 

Lillian Charm. Ire Trenton 


Fowler, Dick & Walker Co Binghamton 

Abraham & Straus, Inc Brooklyn 

F. Stern, Inc Newburgh 

R. H. Macy &. Co New York City 

Boeckel Shop Poughkeepsie 

Hollywood Milliners Troy 

Pierre Campbell Yonkers 


Teachey Womble Raleigh 


Robinson-Schwenn Co Hamilton 

The John Ross Co Middletown 

Edward Wren Co Springfield 

The Hub Steubenville 

Lamson Brothers Toledo 

Livingston's Youngstown 


Chas. F. Berg Co Portland 


Sachs Braddock 

Leonardsons Du Bois 

Bowman &. Co Harrisburg 

Gimbel Brothers Philadelphia 

Gimbel Brothers Pittsburgh 

Scranton D. G. Co Scranton 

Leonard's Uniontown 


Morgan- Verhine Union City 


Volk Bros Dallas 

Sakowitz Bros Houston 


Capin H ats Norfolk 

Jonas Shoppe Richmond 


Alexander's Spokane 


The Diamond. Inc Charleston 

The Floradora Shop Morgantown 


Gimbel Brothers Milwaukee 


Hudson Bay Co Calgary, Alberta 

Hudson Bay Co Winnipeg, Manitoba 

Hollywood's Not-So-Ancienf Mariners 

(Continued from page 17) 

turns to the subject of yachting. 

It's really quite a sight to see one of 
the newly-rich subway cowboys, or 
even just a cowboy for that matter, put- 
ting off in the club tender for his boat. 
His boat, mind you! He's the Master. 
He comes down to the float nattily at- 
tired in studio photographers, peaked 
cap, whites and pea jacket, with the 
smell of salt still in his hair from his 
morning sitz bath. 

All he knows, or wants to know, about 
a boat is how many she'll sleep. To him 
a boat is like a floating crap game — a 
party in a new place every night. I 
rather imagine it is identified to the 
latent male with the sea only when a 
charming lady or two happens to be 
along to admire his masculine stoicism 
when the boat ships a sea. 

Perhaps I'm a little touchy on the 
subject of overdressed dry-land seamen 
with more money than courage, but I've 
had to make my living from the sea 
and, believe me, she's no lightweight 
mistress to work for. That was before 
I began to learn about pleasure yacht- 
ing, Hollywood version. 

That was in the days of the Sirocco, 
not the Cheerio 11. The Cheerio 11 is the 
loveliest yawl you'll ever come across — 
fast, graceful, and tender. She has quite 
a bit of freeboard, but when she starts 
running, close-reefed, with rails under 
—well, she's marvelous! I've wanted to 
own a boat like that ever since the days 
when I used to sail small cargo ships 
of my own in the Southern Seas. I did 
have some grand serviceable, commer- 
cial boats — the Maski, for instance, God 
bless her! — but they were all of a differ- 
ent breed. Steady, good-natured, al- 
most maternal. I left the Maski draped 
shamelessly over a coral bar off the New 
Guinea coast. Beaten, bedraggled, hope- 
lessly stove-in. she waggled her masts 
at me in farewell, for all the world like 
a drunken old harridan ordering an- 
other "Gin-and-It." 


UT Hollywood sailing is another game 
entirely — a game, not a vocation. It's a 
lot of fun, too, and a lot of laughs if you 
can keep your sense of humor up. 

Nearly all the Hollywood fleet have 
Oley Olsens on board to do their sailing 
for them . . . and nearly all the Oley 
Olsens are quaint old gentlemen who 
have a nodding acquaintance with the 
sea and a line of salty dialect that would 
make a Maine fisherman think he was in 
a foreign country. I think most of them 
come from Central Casting, but for some 
arcane reason, these gentlemen all say 
they have been skippers of ocean liners 
and have just mislaid their papers. 

In their gnarled old hands is placed 
the fate of the fleet's newest mariner. 
But the responsibility doesn't weigh 
heavily on them. They know that the 
new owner will never want to go much 
farther than Catalina, anyway. And, 
too, they have found out that they can 
ride the devil out of Hollywood people 
and make them like it, on the theory 
that the more the owner is put in his 
place, the greater will be his respect for 
his Oley. 

There is a grand legend told around 
the harbor about Mike Boylan and his 
Oley. Mike had just taken delivery on 
his boat and planned to leave San Pedro 
at noon for a week end's fishing off Cat- 
alina. They got under weigh shortly 
after five. This particular Oley Olsen 
seemed to have great difficulty in start- 
ing the auxiliary — so much so that Mike 
finally did it for him. Then, clear of 
the breakwater, they had a worse time 

upping sail. By the time the mainsail 
was up and the jib made fast, it was 
quite dark. But that didn't bother Oley. 
He'd raise the Island by dead reckoning, 
no fear. Four hours, maybe six; de- 
pended on currents and winds. 

Somewhere around two in the morn- 
ing Boylan began to have his doubts. 
There wasn't a light anywhere. He 
questioned Oley rather harshly. Oley 
was hurt. After all, didn't Mr. Boylan 
have faith in him? One thing led to 
another and relations became strained. 
Just then they raised some lights off to 
starboard and Oley began to crow. 
There was Avalon, right on the nose! 

Mike was humbled. He begged Oley's 
pardon. They had a drink and turned 
in as soon as they'd dropped anchor. 
When Mike got up there was no Oley 
in sight. He'd disappeared. When Mike 
turned shorewards, he understood why. 
They were snugly under the lee of the 
San Pedro breakwater — after seven 
hours' cruise in a circle! 


TYPICAL week-end map of the 
Southern California coast line would 
drive my old pals in the islands mad 
with the sight of beautiful women, lux- 
urious craft and bad seamanship. But, 
good or bad, it's fun, so what difference 
does it make? Dotting the coves and 
bays from Santa Cruz Island on the 
north to the Todos Santos group off En- 
senada, Mexico, you will see enough 
actors floating in brine and Scotch to 
stock a dozen studios. And that's not 

gustedly went below for the tools. 

At that moment the girl jumped nim- 
bly aboard the Cheerio, whipped out an 
autograph book and, before I had time 
to realize what had happened, had my 
autograph and was over the side again. 
Laughing boisterously at their little 
joke, they cast off, kicked the motor into 
a roar and were gone as the skipper 
perspired up from the forepeak with the 
wrench. Our comments as we hoisted 
the mainsail again and got laboriously 
under weigh do not belong in the hal- 
lowed pages of Photoplay. 

TARTHER south we raised Catalina 
and through the binoculars spotted a 
pair of boats that made the Honolulu 
race last year. Tom Reed, the M-G-M 
writer-producer, master of the Paisano, 
and director John Ford, aboard his 
hundred and ten foot ketch, the Ar- 
aner, were racing around Catalina Is- 
land — which is a good day's sail for any 
man. At the isthmus we found Jimmy 
Cagney entertaining a gang on the 
Martha. Jimmy admits he's no seaman, 
never raises a sail on the Martha and 
gets deathly ill in the slightest swell. 
But, paradoxically, he loves the Martha 
and spends his spare time aboard. 

However, he hasn't fallen to the level 
of producer Harry Cohn of Columbia, 
The Gem of the Breakwater. Cohn owns 
a luxurious cruiser that he keeps per- 
manently moored in the yacht basin 
with complete telephone connections to 
the shore. Never takes it out, but will 


The Land of Tamales and Tequilla 

Our Young Man About Hollywood 

Go adventurous with the Powells, Grace Moore and a host of other picture 
stars in their trek across the border in search of new and picturesque vacation 


all you'll find. 

I was coming down the Santa Bar- 
bara channel not long ago, minding my 
own business and at peace with the 
world, when I heard the approaching 
roar of a high-powered speedboat. She 
quickly overhauled us and cut by to 
port much closer than she need be. I 
cussed out the girl and two men aboard 
her fluently as her deep wake set the 
Cheerio to rolling heavily and I heard 
the rattle of crockery from below. 

In a few minutes the motor of the 
speedboat ahead began to sputter and 
pop, then die out entirely. Half a mile 
ahead she lay wallowing in the trough 
with signs of considerable confusion. As 
the Cheerio loafed along in the light 
following breeze, the skipper came aft. 
Did I want to put over? The people on 
the powerboat seemed to be in difficul- 
ties, were signaling for assistance. Per- 
sonally, I felt that it served them right, 
but the first law of the sea is never to 
pass a boat in distress. 

Grumbling to myself, I put her over. 
We dropped the mainsail and came 
alongside with just the jib for steerage- 
way. One look at the passengers con- 
vinced me that any three people as 
serene as they were, powerless in a run- 
ning sea, must be either insane of in- 
credibly stupid. One chap hailed us, 
wanted the loan of a monkey wrench. 
The Skipper heaved him a line and dis- 

tell you that yachting is his favorite 
recreation and pastime. 

You'll hear loads of legend and folk- 
lore about this basinful of Hollywood 
seaman. You'll hear about Preston Fos- 
ter trying to bag a whale with a rifle 
off Catalina and how the annoyed mam- 
mal then set about the serious business 
of turning the Zoa III into the Zoa IV 
and the race Foster had to make har- 
bor; you'll hear about the time Dick 
Aden took Gary Cooper and Jack Oakie 
for a fishing trip on the Joby R. and 
Oakie arrived dressed in what might be 
Esquire's idea of a Patagonian Rear Ad- 
miral's Coronation uniform and how the 
two enraged, dungareed players dumped 
him overside and towed him around the 
harbor; you'll hear how Jack Moss, 
Gary's three-hundred-pound manager 
fell in after a yellowtail and, despite his 
indignant denials, had to be hauled back 
aboard with the power winch. 

You'll hear how Chaplin's skipper 
spends half his time in search of quiet 
coves in which to drop anchor for days 
at a time while Paulette and the owner 
are resting with their pals; and you'll 
hear how Barrymore's Infanta got lost 
in a fog and followed the riding lights of 
a tugboat halfway to San Francisco one 
night under the impression that the 
light was the beacon at the Isthmus; 
you'll hear of the game of tag played in 
the harbor between a drunken Japanese 

fisherman, Ronald Colman's Dragou; 
and Spence Tracy's ketch, the Carrie B. 
when the fisherman, full of saki and the 
joy of a newborn son, tried to ram first 
the Dragoon and then the Carrie B. and 
so on- — just as a gag for over an hour 
while the players had to indulge in fast 
maneuverings to save their vessels. Yes. 
you'll hear loads of legends around the 
Santa Monica Yacht Basin — and lots 
more that couldn't be printed, besides 

IARTHER south, toward the marlin 
waters of the Islas Coronados, is still 
another anchorage in the lee of the 
aristocratic old Hotel del Coronado, but 
there is an anchorage of seamen not 
Hollywoodians. Matter of fact, the Hol- 
lywood crowd is none too welcome 
down there unless they've come for 
sport fishing instead of the usual week- 
end binge on the bounding main. It's 
a lovely little spot and I, for one, get 
quite a lift out of threading my way 
through the armada of Navy ships 
moored in the roadstead. 

It was an early dawn like that when 
I was putting out for the Coronadas re- 
cently with Dolores Del Rio and her 
husband, Cedric Gibbons, and Lili. 

Dolores and Damita weren't being 
fashion plates that dawn; they were in 
ducks and had decided to go barefooted 
as long as Cedric and I did. I must ad- 
mit they looked a bit odd with the red 
nail polish on their seamanly bare feet, 
but we were really having fun and 
looking forward to dinner in a cove I 
knew on Santa Magdalena Island. 

On the way down, in addition to 
plenty of yellowtail, we caught a hun- 
dred and ninety-eight pounder, using 
live flying fish for bait. While the 
skipper started dishing up the dinner 
of yellowtail, we took a quick dip in 
the cove, got into the speedboat and 
ran across the Bay to buy some Mexican 
wine from the San Tomas vineyards. 


HAT was very nearly the last time 
the skipper saw any of us. We started 
up the main street in our swimming 
trunks and were immediately sur- 
rounded by a wildly gesticulating crowd 
of khaki-clad soldados who seemed to 
be very angry about something and 
were moving us off in the general di- 
rection of the bastille. Neither Cedric 
nor I was quite sure what to do about 
it as we didn't feel like tying into the 
whole Mexican army at that point, es- 
pecially with our wives in the party. 

Of course, in the stress and strain we 
had both forgotten that Dolores, as well 
as being a beautiful girl, happens to 
have been the reigning beauty of Mex- 
ico. She waited calmly while we men 
tried to assert ourselves and find out 
the meaning of this outrage. Then she 
quietly spoke a word or two to the ser- 
geant who instantly became all smiles, 
bows and fluent cordiality and started 
leading us in the opposite direction 
On the way down the street she whis- 
pered to me that we had been under ar- 
rest for appearing on the public streets 
of a Sunday insufficiently clad, but that 
she had saved the day by telling him 
that our clothes had blown overboard 
while we were swimming and that we 
had come to town to re-outfit. 

Fifteen minutes later we were hurry- 
ing out of town feeling extremely con- 
spicuous in four ill-assorted bathrobes 
that looked and smelled faintly like 
secondhand horse blankets. We also had 
the wine and the best wishes of the 
policeman — whose brother, strangely 
enough, ran the town clothing store! 




"I don't know whether or not to go 
through with it. What do I want with 
a house, now that Mom isn't here?" 

He thinks a minute. 

"I guess I'd like to travel — go places. 
Maybe I don't want to be tied down." 

He paces restlessly. 

"Why the devil don't they give me a 
picture?" he asks. "Why don't they lay 
me off? I don't like dough I don't 

He reaches over to the desk in his 
dressing room, picks up a photograph 
of his mother in an attractive metal 
frame about five inches by six inches in 
size. The face is tinted in lifelike colors. 

"Why aren't there more guys like the 
one who did this?" he demands. 

The story reveals the sentimental side 
of the man whom millions know only 
as a hard-boiled man of the world. On 
his return from New York he found 
the picture on his desk. Joe Kaplan, 
wardrobe man, had read of his mother's 
death. He had found a very small pic- 
ture, had had it enlarged and framed, 
had put it on the desk for George to 

George might have found a five-figure 
salary check waiting there. But the 
picture means much more to him. 


1EORGE RAFT is the second of elev- 
en children born to Conrad and Eva 
Glockner Ranft. On his maternal side 
he takes no great pride in his family, 
has had the disadvantage of unfamil- 
iarity. His maternal grandfather and 
grandmother are vague figures. The 
family was Italian. 

On his paternal side, George has more 
data, more words of praise. Fascinated 
is he by tales of grandfather Christo- 
pher Ranft, seeker after gold in Cali- 
fornia's days of '49, the man who 
brought the first merry-go-round from 
Germany to America, owner of apart- 
ment houses and of concessions in 
amusement parks. 

Christopher Ranft had three sons, 
Conrad, Fred and Charles. 

"I was born to hard work," George 
says today. "My grandfather set an 
example for his sons by working from 
eight o'clock in the morning to one 
o'clock the next," he recalls. "I remem- 
ber that he owned a ferris wheel, mer- 
ry-go-round, swings and a cafe at an 
amusement park at Fort George. 

"My father was superintendent of the 
John Wanamaker warehouse, working 
from eight in the morning until six 
or later at night. He came home for 
a quick supper, went to the park and 
worked until one the next morning. 

"My father was German and stub- 
born, passing that streak on to me. 
When he quit Wanamaker's, after twen- 
ty-seven years, he went the way I like 
to see a man go. When the higher-ups 
told him he'd have to fire oldsters who'd 
started with him, who'd given their 
lives to the store, he replied: 

" 'You fire 'em. I'll walk out before 
I will.' 

"He walked. He was faithful to the 
men who had been faithful to him." 

When George was eight years old and 
had not as yet seen the inside of a 
school, his family moved to an apart- 
ment house at 501 West 166th Street 
which grandfather Ranft owned and 
which housed the various Ranft house- 
holds. George got two dollars for after- 
school deliveries, first went to St. Cath- 
erine's, at 152nd Street and Amsterdam 
Avenue, later to Public School 169 at 
168th Street and Audubon Avenue. He 
fitted into this picture until he was 

Hi, Georgie 

(Continued from page 21) 

fourteen, when he left home for two 
unusual reasons. The first reveals his 
inherent thoughtfulness. 

"There were ten kids, all to die later," 
George says. "They were taken so fast 
by illness, accidents — one was killed by 
an automobile and another by a freight 
train — that I never really got to know 
them. Mom worked like the devil. The 
kids demanded every minute of her 
life, took most of the dough my father 
made. I figured Dad and Mom had 
enough to worry them without me, the 
oldest except for my sister, Katherine. 
So I shoved off." 

The second reason was that George, 
although he liked to learn, didn't like 
the kids at the public school. He proved 
an apt pupil and was jumped from 
4-a to 6-b. 

"There were too many wise guys," 
George says. "They rode me because 
I was small, because I'd skipped a year. 
Called me a sissy. One fellow cracked 
once too many. He was bigger than I, 
but I let him have it with both hands 
right in the classroom. He went back- 
ward, his head slapped a desk, and he 
passed out. I stuck around to see that 
the damage wasn't serious, and then 
lit out." 

He went home, told his mother he 
was leaving both school and home. Mom 
told George she loved him and that she 
didn't want him to go. 

"I just said that I thought if I left 
the groceries would go farther," he 


IY first idea was to be a fight 
champion. However, I decided that that 
and everything else would have to wait 
while I saw the world. I had a friend, 
Frank Muro, a little older than I was, 
who'd been around, and who told me 
about .going places." 

Frank's exciting tales of boxcar ad- 
ventures thrilled George. 

"We hopped a freight in the yards 
and wound up in Cleveland," he says. 
"We did any kind of work in a lot of 
towns, coming and going. This -made 
me decide that the next time I trav- 
eled I'd go first class. I didn't like 
the dirt. Mom and her house were 
neat and clean, and she always made 
me shine my shoes, comb my hair, wear 
a clean shirt and tie." 

Back in New York again, George got 
a full-time job delivering groceries, 
which paid him ten dollars a week. A 
hall bedroom took quite a slice of this. 

"The groceryman figured deliveries 
were only part of my job," George re- 
lates. "At five o'clock in the morning 
he took me with him to Harlem to buy 
stock. Back at the store about seven, we 
went into the basement and slept on po- 
tato sacks until time to open. Seven was 
quitting time except Saturdays, when 
we worked through till eleven." 

George, self-imposed exile, didn't for- 
get his family. In the course of his 
deliveries he went by the apartment, 
left a sack of potatoes, bunches of car- 
rots, other vegetables. Sometimes he 
stayed for lunch or for dinner and al- 
ways his mother pleaded: 

"Georgie, come back with us." 

"No, Mom. I'll make it on my own." 

The reunion was postponed again 
and again down through the years. Un- 
til one night he waited for a doctor 
who walked from a room and said: 

"Your mother is dead." 

At fifteen George found the dance 
halls beckoning. The music got into his 
blood, put his feet in motion, even 
after the eleven o'clock Saturday night 

closing. Sleek, pomaded, dapper, you 
could find him at the Central Casino, 
the Manhattan Casino, other places, let- 
ting rhythm soak into his tired muscles, 
watching, dancing, watching. Music to- 
day gives George a kick, a lift. He has 
never taken a drink in his life — but 
swing band tunes intoxicate him. 

"I got the idea that if I could be a 
good dancer, I could get people know- 
ing me," he recalls. "I figured it would 
make me somebody." 

He was a "natural." The years moved 
on, and George attracted attention with 
his footwork. The spotlight rested on 
him now and then. Daytimes, George 
held a lot of jobs, nonsatisfying, all a 
means to an 'end, all hard work. Elec- 
trician's helper. Delivery boy. Clerk. 
Then, with a pal, Johnny Sinque, he 
carried lumber off the Harlem barges 
into the yards. 

He and Johnny and the others 
clowned, boxed. George was good, and 
one ambition became two. George felt 
ready to try the ring. 

"I'm going to get me some fights," 
he told Johnny. 


IE started his professional career at 
eighteen. Down through the years has 
come a conjured picture of George 
fighting main events at Madison Square 
Garden. George fought twenty-two 
bouts in two years. He battled only 
at the small neighborhood clubs, the 
New Polo, the Olympic, the Morning- 
side and the Fairmont. 

"At first I got five dollars," George 
admits. "Fighting was a spare time 
proposition. My top was seventy-five 
dollars. I won my first four starts and 
thought I was going places. Then I got 
slapped around a few times and I 
changed my mind. I hung up my gloves 
after my seventh knockout. I did this 
because I couldn't see the pay-off. And 
I wanted to be tops or nothing. Today 
I'm glad I quit before I got slap-happy. 
I look around me at some of the stumble- 
bums who have stuck it out, and I see 
I was smart to quit when I did." 

Realizing that he would be no Bob 
Fitzsimmons, no Benny Leonard, no 
Mickey Walker, he looked for another 
path to glory. He had played sand lot 
baseball. He had visions of being another 
Ty Cobb. With him, to think is to act. 
He talked himself into a try out with 
the Springfield, Massachusetts team of 
the Eastern League. 

"I soon saw that I couldn't get on the 
regular roster because I wasn't good 
enough. There's a story that I played 
for two seasons. That's bunk. I was 
smart again. I pulled out before I'd 
wasted too much time." 

George drifted to one job and then to 
another. Ten dollars a week grew to 
fifteen, to twenty, to twenty-five, and 
the last figure was amplified by his ring 
earnings. He went out with, danced 
with a lot of girls. But, he says, he 
didn't fall in love with any. 

He was, in fact, deeply discontented. 
He couldn't figure he was getting any- 
where at all. He felt alone in the world. 
The fear of failure haunted him. So he 
did a typical thing — gave up fighting, 
started looking for a new career. 

Today in Hollywood, George Raft is a 
wraithlike figure who is never seen in 
night clubs, whose name has never been 
linked to any woman's in Hollywood — 
but one. Hollywood does not know the 
reason for the mystery that surrounds 
him. It is for Edward Churchill to tell 
that secret in February Photoplay. 



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Payboy of the Western World 

(Continued from page 61) 

hair and an ear-yanking grin came in 
to file his daily piece for the papers. 
Will Rogers liked to kick around with 
the folks in Claremore whenever Holly- 
wood and the busy world let him run 
away. Gene Autry tapped out the dis- 
patch, accepted a stick of gum and got 
acquainted. The next night he played a 
few of his tunes and talked, learned 
about the show world and the big towns 
and Hollywood and stuff. Gene wasn't 
much good at railroading from then on. 
When he'd saved up fifty bucks he or- 
dered a pass to New York. When he 
got there he quit his telegraphing job. 
For keeps. 

The screen was wide open and hun- 
gry for a Gene Autry when he finally 
drifted from small-time radio to Holly- 
wood. Only nobody knew it. 

He came to Hollywood in a low, lean 
Western year. He didn't come to buck 
the cowboy star racket. He came to 
Hollywood because the boss of Republic 
studios, then Mascot, had once peddled 
Gene's records and knew the sure-fire 
pull of his voice. With misgivings — be- 
cause he showed his screen greenness 
at once — they cast him in a serial called 
"The Phantom Empire." Nobody no- 
ticed him — in Hollywood. He was no 
Barrymore. From an acting standpoint 
he was as stiff and awkward as a muddy 

But in the hay belt, and in the cheap 
admission city picture shows, where se- 
rials bloom, something different went 
on. Gene Autry was like manna to a 
starving section of forgotten — Holly- 
wood forgotten — movie fans. He had 
what they liked — and they said so, out 
loud. The studio starred him in a West- 
ern feature. 

Since then they can't shoot Gene Au- 
try's pictures fast enough. Today he 
carries along the whole Republic studio. 
Autry Westerns sell the entire program. 
Today Gene's the most popular Holly- 
wood star in the world. Two to one 
over Taylor, three to one over Gable. 
Believe it or not. 

JUST recently Hollywood succumbed 
to this realization with a high fever. 
For the resulting delirium — have a 

Fifty to seventy-five Westerns are on 
studio programs for this year. Seven 
separate studios have lined up any- 
where from six to twenty-six rough- 
riding reelers aimed at the nabes and 
the sticks. Why? Well, I'll tell you 

There is only one retirement on rec- 
ord. Dick Foran, a Princeton boy, who 
never smelled branded beef in his life, 
has discarded his phoney chapparajos. 
It wasn't because his pictures flopped, 
nor because Dick flopped, nor because 
he married a Los Angeles society girl 
and went high hat. It was just because 
Warner's needed him for bigger stuff. 
They're hunting another cowboy now. 

George O'Brien is getting back in the 
saddle at RKO, and Colonel Tim Mc- 
Coy is creaking leather once more. 
Buck Jones merely moved from Uni- 
versal to Columbia. Ken Maynard for- 
sakes his circus for Hollywood this win- 
ter, old Hooter Gibson is looking around 
for the right deal and even Tom Mix 
is talking comeback. Bill Boyd, at 
Paramount, is so solidly set in the Hop- 
along Cassidy series that nothing, not 
even Cecil B. De Mille, could shake him 

sticks, you can thank him. 

But why? How? What did Gene 
have? What has he got now? 

Well, I'll tell you— if you must know. 
The boy's got sex appeal. He's the first 
cowboy star that ever had it in a siz- 
able dose. Ninety per cent of his ter- 
rific flood of mail comes from the sweet 
pretty things. Old women want to 
mother him. Young ones want to mar- 
ry him. Girls want him to be their 
sweetheart. You should read his mail. 
Or maybe you shouldn't. Some of it's 
pretty warm. 

And the paradox is this: he's about 
as much of a ladies' man as Hitler. He's 
shy, he blushes, he tightens up inside a 
mile of a skirt. His director has to coax 
him into a final fade-out peck with his 
leading lady. He's safely married and 
thoroughly domesticated. He goes to 
bed early. Doesn't smoke, doesn't 
drink. Even on the screen he's about as 
sinister as a bottle of milk, and just as 
fresh and clean. That's one reason Gene 
got off to a head start. 

If you remember, about four years 
back a hot wind of sex and sophistica- 
tion swept over Hollywood — and the 
chill gust of a resentful public answered 
it. There was the clean-up campaign, 
the Will Hays "clamp downs," the Puri- 
ty League. There were also a lot of 
people who were neither sophisticated, 
nor clever, nor smart, nor risque, and 
didn't want to be. They were country 
people. In them Gene plainly struck 
a responsive chord. 

But he could sing, too, and play. And 
so, for the first time in the long, rough- 
and-tumble record of Western pictures, 
Gene brought something entertaining 
for women as well as men. And women, 

as everyone knows, rule the world. 
Women and the autocrats they serve — 

That's what Gene Autry means to the 
millions in the South and the West and 
the small towns in every section of this 
country, Canada, South America, Eng- 
land and the Orient. But what about 

To Hollywood, producing Hollywood, 
Gene and his quiet staggering success 
is both a lesson and a promise. The les- 
son is never again to forget the down- 
to-earth people upon whom the movies 
have always depended. The promise is 
the unlimited rewards to come from 
pictures prepared to please them. 

OENE AUTRY'S pictures cost around 
$50,000, which is very small potatoes as 
moving-picture budgets go. They gross 
between $200,000 and $250,000 as regu- 
larly as clockwork. But most strictly 
stick screen fare is cheaper than that. 
Feature-length movies, costing as low 
as $12,000, go out to get what they can 
where they can. Exhibitors play them 
because they're desperate for something 
to give the kids on Friday and Satur- 
day, because the small-town family 
trade must have plain movies for plain 
people at a plain price. But they hurt 
in the long run. 

Straight Westerns and their stars will 
probably never return to the glorious 
days when Tom Mix drew $17,500 a 
week at Fox. They have to be dressed 
up expensively into pictures like "The 
Plainsman" to stand that. Gene Autry 
gets $7500 a picture, but only a few 
months ago he drew $250 a week. 
Smaller, independent studios make 
Westerns because most big majors with 


ND you can blame all this on Gene 
Autry. Or, as I said, if you live in the 

* The Last Gangster — M-G-M * True Confession— Paramount 

EDWARD G. ROBINSON returns to 
the gangster roles that made him a 
star in this dramatic and often pa- 
thetic film. It's splendid cinema, a 
trifle heavy for squeamish audiences 
but magnificently, brutally effective. 

As a big shot, Robinson returns 
from Europe with his foreign bride 
to find rivals muscling in. He kills 
three of them but fails to beat the 
law. In prison he spends ten years, 
bitter in the knowledge that his wife 
has married another man, and that 
his son does not know him. Back in 
civilian life he also finds that former 
pals want only his buried fortune. 
They torture him to get it, finally 
kidnap his son. 

Rose Stradner of Vienna, in her 
first picture, proves exceptional. 
Jimmy Stewart has a thankless part 
and little opportunity. Douglas 
Scott and Lionel Stander have out- 
standing acting roles. This will move 
you deeply if you are capable of ob- 
jective pity. 

Best performances: 

Edward G. Robinson 

Rose Stradner 


HE current fashion for berserk 
comedy under the masterly direction 
of Wesley Ruggles here reaches its 
height. Taken seriously, the piece 
would be an excellent psychological 
study of a congenital liar. However, 
it is played broadly, and hence is 
enormously amusing but rather anti- 
social. Because, after all, murder 
isn't really laughable. 

Carole Lombard, married to strug- 
gling young lawyer Fred MacMur- 
ray, simply can't tell the truth. She 
goes hunting for a job; her prospec- 
tive employer makes passes; and she 
dashes out, leaving hat and purse be- 
hind. When she returns to get them 
she finds the man murdered, and she 
can't resist confessing to the crime 
in order that her husband may at- 
tain fame defending her. Fred, be- 
lieving in her, does get her free. She 
becomes a writer until at last she 
confesses the real truth to her hus- 
band. John Barrymore plays a drunk 
convincingly and Una Merkel is nice 
as Carole's friend. 

Best performances: 
Carole Lombard 
Fred MacMurray 

a weighty overhead can't afford to. At 
least, that was the general idea, until 
Darryl Zanuck made his bid for Gene. 
But more eyes are wide open now and 
Mr. Zanuck does not loom any more 
demented than a fox. A Gene Autry 
can sell many stars far more famous 
than himself in more territories than 
you ever imagined. He can swell the 
returns from their pictures and build 
their names, too, in that now very re- 
spectable orphans' home of the movies 
— the once lowly sticks. 


'N the social side, however, I am 
afraid Gene Autry will never slice 
much ice or press the tempo of Holly- 
wood up or down a beat. For his twen- 
ty-eight years and Gallic ancestry, he is 
about as lively and spectacular as an 
oyster. He and his quiet, Missouri-bred 
wife, married long before fame snatched 
him by the shirttail, live in a modest 
house in the San Fernando Valley, and 
he's just bought a few more acres over 
near Burbank for his horses. The Au- 
trys never go out stepping; in fact, Gene 
doesn't own even an ordinary business 
suit or a pair of lace oxfords. He had 
one pair some time ago but he says he 
lost them and his wife has to believe 

They wanted Gene to show up as a 
guest star when Rudy Vallee opened at 
the Cocoanut Grove the other night but 
someone said "tuxedo," and Gene fled. 
He's never had one on in his life. He 
travels around in a subdued show cow- 
boy garb, nothing to compare with the 
resplendent sartorial sunbursts of Tom 
Mix in his salad days. His idea of a 
good time is to load his white-stock- 
inged black mount, "Champ," in a spe- 
cially built trailer and go out on the 
road for personal appearances. Folks 
like him and he likes folks. Incidentally, 
he breaks house records wherever he 
goes, and he pads his picture income 
past the $100,000 a year bracket thereby. 
Radio is after him this fall, and he has 
just turned down $5000 a week for a 
circus jaunt. But up until this year he 
didn't even keep a record of his checks. 

n E talks with a sparing drawl, but his 
quiet Dutch-blue eyes show that still 
water runs deep. He's always amiable 
and nice to get along with, but he 
knows what he has and what to do 
about it. People don't impress him. 
His wife lured him to the Troc, cowboy 
rig and all, just once — a few days ago. 
Walter Winchell spotted him, and Gene 
will always remember Winchell's crack, 
"You've got a swell press agent — who- 
ever he is," — because he doesn't even 
have a press agent! 

Gene left before twelve o'clock that 
night. But latest reports have it that 
he's coming back for more. He's been 
seen a lot recently at the night spots, 
in full regalia, and — annoyed that more 
of the celebrities don't recognize him! 
See what Cal York says about this on 
page 71. 

There's a striking something about 
him that recalls Will Rogers, another 
cowboy who did all right in Hollywood. 
It couldn't have come from the casual 
contact back in Claremore; it's just that 
Gene and Will were the same breed of 
man underneath. Gene Autry has what 
Will Rogers had — the common touch. 
And like Will, he can't forget his home 

The proudest moment of his life took 
place a short time ago. That was when 
Tioga talked about changing its name 
to Autry Springs, Texas! 


fectly true. But what's it got to do with 
this? That was the result of poor 
teaching. I took my lessons where I 
could get them, and for what I could af- 
ford to pay, which was two dollars. 
They had me screaming Aida and all the 
great dramatic roles at the age of six- 
teen. The vocal cords aren't leather, 
you know, at any time, and at sixteen 
they're pretty fragile. Later they 
toughen up and can stand more strain. 
So can the pocketbook," she smiled. 

Her fan mail— both film and radio- 
bulges with letters which say in effect: 
"Your singing helps us. It's not the 
beauty of the voice alone — not even 
chiefly that, perhaps — but something in 
it which gives us courage, and helps us 
over the rough spots. You seem so 
happy when you sing. It's as if you 
were saying to us: life is good, take it 
and use it well." 

"Those letters," said Miss Moore, 
"mean more to me than anything else 
my voice has brought me. Maybe that 
sounds priggish. But I'm not afraid of 
telling the truth, no matter how it 
sounds. And that happens to be the 
truth. I regard my voice impersonally, 
as a gift from God, as a religion almost. 
At one time I wanted to be a missionary. 
Well, I didn't get to China. I got to 
Hollywood instead. But I use my voice 
in the spirit of the missionary, to my 
fellow beings. 

"This business of perfect technique 
means little to me. Understand, I try to 
be as good an artist as I can. You're 
not worth your salt unless you do. But 
it's — well, take writing. A writer has to 
know how to put his words together, so 
they're smooth and effortless and easy 
to read. Yet that's not nearly so impor- 
tant as the thoughts and feelings he 
wants to convey. It's the same with 
singing, not a question of two cords that 
you manipulate at will, but of some- 
thing that flows from an inward source." 

IF you should ask Miss Moore to what 
influences she attributes that quality in 
her voice — emotional, spiritual, or a 
combination of both — in which listeners 
find their greatest joy, she would tell 
you: faith and love. For Grace Moore 
is not one of your modern repressionists, 
fearful of the sound of great words, re- 
luctant to acknowledge the existence of 
hearts and souls in an age that has seen 
them go out of fashion. As she pours 
her being into song, so she pours it into 
the creed she holds — joyously, confi- 
dently, and without reservations. 

The mountain folk of Eastern Tennes- 
see, where she was born, are steeped in 
the religion of the Bible. As a child, she 
took the Holy Rollers for granted, and 
watched, awe-stricken, as the white- 
robed negroes, shouting their prayers 
and songs, were dipped in the river for 
baptism. Often she went to the church 
of the colored people, drawn by their 
mournfully beautiful voices and her in- 
stinctive recognition that the music they 
made was good. The minister would 
lead the congregation in prayer, the 
worshippers would join him, their 
voices low at first, then rising and swell- 
ing till at last the prayer was a song, an 
exultant hymn of praise and thanksgiv- 

So, in the child's imagination, prayer 
and song became one. When you sang, 
you were praising God. The singer of 
today has never learned to dissociate 
those two ideas. She is still praising 
God when she sings. 

"That's why I devoted myself to re- 
ligious music at first, out of the deep 
gratitude I felt for my voice. Without 

(Continued from page 24) 

splashing my feeling into people's faces, 
I remain a religious person. And I don't 
mean a milk-and-watery half-believer 
in some vague power that maybe is and 
maybe isn't. I'm an old-fashioned, Hard- 
shell Baptist. I believe in the God 
of my fathers. I believe in practically 
everything, including Jonah and the 

"Prayer is still one of the greatest 
things in my life. Prayer is heard, 
prayer is answered. I know it. All the 
skeptics in the world could stand on 
platforms and prove by scientific laws 
and the rule of thumb that there is no 
God, and if there were, He couldn't be 
bothered listening to our prayers. It's 
got nothing to do with laws and rules. 
I'd laugh in their faces, and go right on 
knowing what I know. 

"And here's another thing I believe — 
that my voice was given me as a kind 
of balance wheel. I think every one of 
us is endowed with special gifts to com- 
pensate our human weaknesses. Only 
we have to recognize those gifts, and 
know how to use them. 

"If I hadn't been a singer, I'd have 
been a very unhappy person. I'm one 
that likes to kick over the traces, give 
way to some crazy, heedless impulse I'd 
regret all the rest of my life. There 
have been times, disturbed periods in 
my life, when I've been on the verge of 
taking some step that would have been 
fatal. My mind would be made up, and 
then — there was a concert date to keep, 
or a difficult role at the Met to prepare 
for, or a picture to make. 'I'll do it 
when this is over,' I'd tell myself. But 
when it was over, I no longer wanted 
to do it. 

"Without my voice, I'd have had a — 
well, call it a zigzaggy life. 'Ah, yes,' 
people may say, 'and a lot more fun to 
kick your bonnet over the windmill and 
run free.' It wouldn't have been fun. 
Ask those who've tried it. 

"Be a vagabond for six months, and 
you'll see how you beg to get back into 
harness. Nothing's any fun in this 
world that hasn't got balance. All play 
and no work is as bad as the other way 
round. All freedom and no duty makes 
a life that's not worth living. You've 
got to have purpose; you've got to be 
going somewhere; you can't just drift. 
My voice has kept me on the track when 
I might have been derailed. Do you 
wonder that my thanks come pouring 
out in every song?" 

TAITH on the one hand, and on the 
other, love. You've read so many stor- 
ies in which the young singer has been 
told: "Find love. Until you do, you 
will not find your best voice." Like a 
storybook heroine in so "many other 
ways, Miss Moore's romance was like 
the storybook's, too. 

Six years ago she embarked for Eu- 
rope. Her singing teacher saw her off. 
His eyes were troubled. As the visitors' 
gong sounded, he took her hand and 
said, "This is the turning point of your 
career. If you can learn to let yourself 
go, you have twenty brilliant years 
ahead of you. If not, your career will 
be short and, alas, not brilliant. Some- 
thing must happen to you, my dear." 

She patted his hand. "Don't worry. 
Because if it must happen, it will hap- 
pen. I'm a fatalist, you know." 

Three days later it happened. She 
rose at this point in her story, her eyes 
glowing, her voice vibrant with the joy 
of a remembered miracle. 

"I saw Mr. Parera, and I knew in two 
minutes, there was the man I'd been 
waiting for all my life. Don't ask me 

how. Again, those are things that don't 
go by rules and laws, as none of the 
deepest things does. We stood looking 
at each other and, swift and certain as 
lightning, I knew in my heart: there's 
the man I'm going to marry. At the 
same time he was saying to himself: 
there's the girl who will be my wife. 

"You see, I was ready for him. I'd 
imagined I was in love before. I'd gone 
through these great emotional upheav- 
als, only to find they didn't have any 
foundation and crumbled to dust right 
under my hand. But they had their 
purpose, too. Having known the false, 
I could recognize the true thing when 
it came along. As I look back on it now, 
all of what went before seems to have 
been a preparation for my present way 
of life. I'd been unhappy, so I knew 
how to appreciate happiness. I'd been 
disappointed, I'd seen what I thought 
was gold turn to clay, so imagine for 
yourself what it was like to find a love 
that grew sweeter and deeper with each 
day you lived together." 


I EXT time her teacher saw her, he 
smiled and said: "I worry no more. 
The future is yours." 

I asked her: "How about those other 
times when you thought you were in 
love? After all, you honestly thought 
so. Didn't that make any difference in 
your voice?" 

And suddenly the prima donna was all 
gamin. Her nose crinkled, her lips 
curled, her hand flapped in a boy's ges- 
ture of disgust. "Nah!" she said. It 
was the same kind of transformation as 
when she sang "Minnie, the Moocher" 
in her last picture. 

"You see, those stirred only the sur- 
face. And because I'd never known 
anything better, I thought that was all 
of love. But my voice was wiser than I. 
My voice refused to be touched by what 
didn't reach the heart. It would have 
made things easier if I could have con- 
sulted my voice," she smiled ruefully. 
"Something like Alice, you know. 'Is 
this love, Voice?' 'No, Grace, not yet.' 

"But when it did come, we both knew 
it, my voice and I. And for the first 
time I began to understand the heroines 
I was singing. Instead of doing what I 
was told to do from the outside, I drew 
my knowledge from within. All of life 
had a more intense meaning. I could 
understand Manons joie de vivre be- 
cause of the happiness bubbling in my- 
self. I could understand Butterfly's de- 
spair because, having found love, it was 
like a sword in the heart even to im- 
agine losing it. They weren't operatic 
figures to me any longer. They were 
living women who had loved men as I 
loved my husband. Of course, it was 
bound to show in the voice." 

It is since her marriage to the dis- 
tinguished-looking Spaniard with the 
gentle eyes that she has won her great- 
est triumphs both here and abroad — 
queen of song in Hollywood, radio's No. 
1 lark, command performances for roy- 
alty, honors heaped upon her wherever 
she goes. Experts say that her voice 
has not yet reached its fullest maturity, 
that the next ten years will see her lyric 
soprano flowering to a richer beauty. 

But if anyone tells you that Grace 
Moore is losing her voice, don't be upset. 
See her next picture, listen to her next 
radio series, and judge for yourself be- 
tween the baseless rumor and the evi- 
dence of your own ears. As a child, she 
found faith. As a woman, she found 
love. Blending the fruit of these gifts 
with the gift of her voice, the future 
is hers. 

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Wont Marry Stokowski," Says Greta Garbo 

(Continued from page 16) 

Garbo out of her shell of aloofness. He 
brought to the surface a latent, bubbling 
personality. He was a "pal" to the 
Norse beauty. 


'DDLY enough, it was just outside 
the secluded Cukor estate (which he 
had made available to Garbo for exer- 
cise during his sojourn in New York) 
where the limousine now stopped. 

A face peered from the rear window. 
It was Garbo. 

I sprang from my machine, ap- 
proached her car. While I knew it be- 
fore (I had worked at the studio and 
on one of her pictures) this fresh sight 
of her once again affirmed my belief 
that Garbo was no legendary figure, 
but a real person — a warmhearted, ami- 
able, breath-taking woman, a mystery 
woman to the world, perhaps, but to her 
coterie of friends, a keen-witted woman 
with a fine sense of living. 

I wasted no more time. 

"Hello, Miss Garbo," I said, carefully 
assuming a nonchalance I was far from 
feeling. "Do you remember me?" 

She gave me a long quizzical look. 
Her silken tawny hair was in charming 
disarray. It framed, with a honeyed 
halo, her pale angular face, completely 
free from cosmetics. She was dressed 
very informally — beautifully tailored 
gray slacks, a simple blue blouse, low- 
heeled sport shoes. In her hand, just 
doffed, was a large floppy straw hat. 

"Yes," she answered me slowly. "I do 
remember you." 

I went on hurriedly. "I'm with the 
Los Angeles Examiner," and began a 
series of questions which she cut short 
with: "How did you find me? Did you 
follow me from my house?" 

I nodded. 

Over her famous features spread a 
warm glowing smile. "How sad," she 

said. "How sad!" The smile still played 
about her lips. 

Then she made the famous remark 
that I have quoted before. "No, no — I 
will not marry Mr. Stokowski." 

Her eyes sparkled as she said it. You 
could see that she was no little irked 
by the reports that she would marry 
him. I believed her. She is wholly sin- 
cere in all she says. She is at all times 
direct. She would not tell a deliberate 

"These rumors are absurd," she went 
on. "I won't deny that Mr. Stokowski 
and I are very good friends. But as for 
marriage to him — no. That is out of the 


O Garbo spoke, shattering all tradi- 
tions, for, for the first time, she had" 
spoken about herself and for the world 
to know — Garbo about whom so little is 
actually known. 

Then she turned to go. The open gate 
was closing on her and still I had not 
found out what I had come to find out 
— why Greta Garbo would not marry 
Leopold Stokowski. 

She must have read my mind, for "the 
world's most elusive woman" spoke once 
more and in so doing she, herself, pro- 
vided what is perhaps the most potent 
reason for our believing that she will 
not wed the musical genius — and her 
answer is the key that will unlock a 
Pandora's box of secrets of her ro- 
mances heretofore buttressed from the 
world by the wall of mystery which 
surrounds her: 

"Every time a new picture of mine is 
about to open, they all say that I am 
going to marry someone," she said. 
There was a tinge of amusement in the 
low, throaty, enchanting voice as she 
concluded, with definite emphasis, "That 
ought to be clear." 

Skating Through Life 

(Continued from page 63) 

will have to pay me more money, gen- 
tlemen," she told them. 

The spokesman laughed suddenly. 
"You are a remarkable young woman," 
he said. "Name your figure." 


lER four exhibitions in Madison 
Square Garden brought her a small for- 
tune and the acclaim of New York, but 
not immediately what she wanted most: 
an offer from Hollywood. Oh, a man 
from Paramount looked her up and of- 
fered her a test, but when she went to 
take it they didn't ask her to skate. 
Instead she was made to enter a room, 
pick up a book, sit down, read a little, 
look sorrowful. Such pap was foreign 
to her nature, to the enormous vitality 
that burned in her. The studio repre- 
sentative remarked that on celluloid 
her nose was too small, her face too 
round, and Of-course-you-appreciate 
and We-are-so-sorry and Maybe-later. 
However, there was to be a skating se- 
quence in the picture and if she wanted 
to be photographed in action, at a dis- 
tance, for a reasonable sum. 

"No," she told him, "I want to begin 
as a star, in my own picture," — and 
showed him out. Within the week she 
knew she had been right: Paramount's 
casting director wired her to come to 
Hollywood. He would meet her and 
they would discuss terms. 

She telegraphed the time of her ar- 
rival but when she stepped off the plane 
at Burbank there was nobody — nobody, 
for the first time in her life — to meet 

She waited three days and then phoned 
the studio, asking for the casting di- 

"He's out of town, Miss Henie," a 
weary voice told her. "Perhaps he did 
have an appointment with you, but he 
was called away suddenly. Yes. Yes, I 
know. I'm sorry, but — " 

Sonja replaced the receiver slowly, 
slowy put on her hat, walked with slow 
steps out into the bright Hollywood 
streets, thinking: I've been too con- 
fident. This is a hard city, this movie 
place. They are self-sufficient here, they 
don't care for anything or anyone. I 
had better go back to New York and be- 
gin a tour of exhibitions. 

As she stood on a street corner, wait- 
ing for a signal to change, she was sud- 
denly aware that two girls were talking 

excitedly near her. She listened, 
apathetically. "Who's that in the Dues- 
enberg?" the girl with the bandanna 
was asking, pointing at a sleek car that 
stood at the intersection. 

"Somebody awfully important," her 
companion said, "in that little buggy." 

Sonja, without special interest, peered 
into the tonneau and saw a man she 
had met in New York, a man she knew 
to be penniless, sitting elegantly dressed 
in the deep cushions. What a bluff, she 
thought vaguely. He must have rented 
that car, or borrowed it. Then her mind 
did a quick somersault; it may be bluff, 
remarked a small portion of her brain, 
but it's also showmanship. 

While the signal changed twice, while 
people pushed indignantly past her and 
stared, Sonja stood motionless, looking 
at the spot where the Duesenberg had 
been. Then she turned and almost ran 
back to her hotel. 


HEN began the frantic weeks, the long 
full days of ceaseless activity and plan- 
ning. She rented a huge mansion, 
painted it white, and stocked it with 
servants. She bought a spectacular, su- 
per-streamlined white car and rode 
through the streets of Hollywood; she 
had the best shops do her hair and 
face, so that at every moment of the day 
she looked exquisite; she wore the most 
expensive and daring Paris clothes. 

She rented the only skating rink in 
Southern California for an exhibition. 

The advance sale of tickets was un- 
satisfactory, because few on the West 
Coast knew or cared who she was — so 
she gave a private showing for the press 
and thus filled the Los Angeles papers 
with her name and picture. On the 
night, now famous, of her show the 
streets for blocks near the rink were 
filled with the medium -priced cars of 
the paying audience and the limousines 
of the movie great, to whom she had 
sent complimentary tickets. In special 
boxes sat the seven most powerful men 
of the picture industry, for whom this 
exhibition was being staged — for whose 
benefit she had established herself as 
the White Woman of Hollywood. 

After that night two things happened 
in quick succession. The first was her 
interview with Darryl Zanuck, presid- 
ing genius of Twentieth Century-Fox; 
"I will make a picture with you as the 
star," he offered, "and pay you $15,000 
— more if it's a hit." 

"Every other studio in town is after 
me," she said. "I can make that much 
money in one night, skating." 

"Fifty thousand." 

"I've decided on my price," said Sonja, 
looking as bored as possible. "I want 
$300,000 a picture— I'm worth it." 

There was an electric silence. Then 
Zanuck relaxed again and leaned across 
his desk. "Now look," he said softly, "I 
know how good you are and how much 
you're worth to me. You're worth this 
much: a million dollars for five pictures 


— what big Hollywood star bottles lemon juice as 

a business? 

— the name of the prominent woman actress who 

makes chow mein "on the side"? 

— that Shirley — the minx — can drive as shrewd a 

deal as anyone — and on her own? 

DIAMOND PIN MONEY by Gilbert Seldes 

gives away the business dealings of the stars 
and explains the reason for them. You'll 
be amazed and amused at what he tells — 

In February PHOTOPLAY 

a year, for two years. You'll begin at 
$75,000 and work up." 

"Yes," she told him simply. 

The other important thing came a 
few months later, when "One In A Mil- 
lion" was previewed. Now Sonja Henie 
knew that the greatest world audience 
it is possible to reach was applauding 
her at last. 

I HE events that followed so swiftly 
in a swift year after that may be told 
in a series of captions and Winchellisms 
and headlines: ". . . and the Henie- 
Power combine looks like eventual 
amalgamation. . . ." " 'Thin Ice,' in 
which she costarred with Tyrone Pow- 
er, completed, Miss Henie will leave on 
a skating tour of the United States . . ." 
"Detroit Hotel Strike Causes Power and 
Henie To Walk Seventeen Flights of 
Stairs For Breakfast . . ." "Sonja and 
Tyrone at the Derby — at Prima 's — at the 
Hawaiian Paradise. . ." 

And finally, "Sonja Henie's Father 

She said to Tyrone the night her 
father left her, "Something fine is gone. 
And something else, too — you may 
not understand what I mean, but this 
thing between us was — too soon. I 
wasn't ready, after all." 

She looked vaguely past him. "I'll be 
going back to Norway when this pic- 
ture is finished, to take father's ashes 
home. While I'm gone you needn't feel 
any lack of freedom. You understand: 
you must do as you like then." 

She expected, all the way across 
America, and on the Atlantic, to find 
tears for Tyrone; and instead she found 
them only for Wilhelm. The minor tide 
of one feeling was lost in the flood of 
another, greater emotion. She felt her- 
self without consolation of any kind. 

Until, as the boat moved slowly to- 
wards the wharf at Oslo, there came to 
her above the diminishing beat of the 
motors a familiar sound, a reverberant 
murmur which to her was the recogniz- 
able compensation for all things. 

She looked towards the dock and saw 
the black sea of massed people, waiting 
there for Sonja Henie. She touched her 
hair, fixed a smile on her face, and stood 
ready at the rail. 

As the boat stood suddenly still, and 
the gangplank crashed down, the rising 
crescendo of applause engulfed her 
completely, drowning out thought. 


Close Ups and Long Shots 

So much so that I bumped into Billie 
Burke on the lot and she said she never 
would have known me . . . "Why, I 
thought you were one of those pretty lit- 
tle stock girls on the lot," she said . . . 
leaving me to make of that what I 
would . . o 

I HEN Mr. Willinger took up where 
they left off ... he worked nobly but 
squinted at me in tired discouragement 
... we ended by taking laughing shots 
. , . because I figured that I probably 
couldn't even cry in a darling way. . . . 
You saw the results on page 9 and 
much as I dislike the thought 
there's a lesson in it . . . for all kidding 
aside — it does show what almost any 
girl must learn to face out here . . . 
there is nowhere where people can criti- 
cize you so objectively and sincerely as 
in Hollywood and for the girls who 
really mean to stay in pictures, if they 
can take it and can act on that criticism, 
they have learned the initial step toward 
greatness. . . . 

But if I had thought that I had suf- 
fered before Mr. Willinger's camera it 
was a nothing to being photographed 

(Continued from page 9) 

with Mr. Gable . . . though suffering 
with Mr. Gable is not actually the worst 
of all human agony. . . . 

Clark had asked for that Vincentini 
portrait of himself as Rhett Butler that 
we ran in our October issue and though 
I was more than delighted to have him 
have it I had to see that Photoplay 
got something out of it too ... so I 
asked that we get a shot of him receiv- 
ing the drawing and they decided to 
count me in. . . . 

Now as it so happens I hadn't seen 
Clark for six months . . . and as terri- 
ble as I knew the Gable uumph to be I 
had nonetheless forgotten just how im- 
mediately it acted upon you . . . that is 
I had overlooked it until they got the 
camera focused and Clark by the way 
of deviling me turned on that look that 
he sometimes gives to his heroines in a 
love scene ... it didn't mean a thing 
to him . . . that was all too apparent 
from the way his eyes were twinkling 
... it was just trying to see what that 
look could do . . . but after being just 
a hard-working editor all month long 
... to glance up and see that mocking 
look lavished upon you, even though 

you knew it was all by way of laughing 
at you . . . well, the next time one of 
Clark's leading ladies tells me that in 
her scenes with Mr. G. she is merely 
thinking about her income tax . . . I'll 
know what to call her. . . . 

For there is another truth there . . . 
personality is the main motive any- 
where in the world . . . and here was 
the most possessed, charming and sane 
man in the motion-picture star firma- 
ment having his own joke and being so 
grand about it that even though you 
knew you were being mercilessly teased 
you were grateful for it. . . . 

Before I got away from there I got 
him to promise to give us a very special 
story that you will be seeing in an 
early Photoplay . . . the real story of 
himself as it has never been told before 
. . . Clark says he will tell it just to you 
readers and he is a gentleman who 
keeps his word ... so watch for it. . . . 

Perhaps between the lines of all this 
you see how hard an editor's life in 
Hollywood really is. . . . 

As brutal as getting a diamond brace- 
let on Christmas morning, that's what 
it is. . . . 

Boos and Bouquets 

they see one, or whether they're trying 
to make a screen weakling out of him, 
but I do think they are ruining an up- 
and-coming career, and killing the re- 
spect of the public for their judgment in 
selecting the right players for the right 

If some of these narrow-minded play- 
ers who say Bob is a sissy, or that he 
can't act were given ten times the 
chance Taylor has been given, what 
would they do with it? If they are so 
wonderful that they can criticize the 
efforts of another, why aren't they in 
Hollywood with their names flashing all 
over the country. Or is it just because 
they haven't yet been discovered? 

Remember "Crime Doesn't Pay" and 
"Magnificent Obsession" and "His Broth- 
er's Wife" and "Camille?" All wonderful 
portrayals, and no one can challenge 
that! But what about "Private Number" 
and "The Gorgeous Hussy" and "Per- 
sonal Property?" Were the producers 
giving Taylor a break? He has showed 
the public what he could do, and it is 
the producer's fault that he doesn't get 
the acting roles that will show his talent. 
Frances E. Clute, 
Detroit, Mich. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


Being in the business world of Holly- 
wood and meeting the stars every day, 
I can give you this impression of Clark 
Gable, not as fiction, but as a true fact 
from everyday life. 

He called at our place of business one 
morning dressed in sport clothes. Very 
businesslike, this Gable. He wandered 
about the store missing nothing, with 
our employees giving him little attention. 
(He prefers that.) A little girl seated 
in a toy automobile glanced about, and 
suddenly seeing Mr. Gable, called her 
father's attention to him. She wanted 
his autograph. 

The father spoke to Mr. Gable, and, 
smiling graciously, Clark walked over 
to the car and gave the requested sig- 

(Continued from page 64) 

nature. In the course of the conversa- 
tion I heard him call the little girl 
"sweetheart" and other endearing 
names. The little girl was so happy she 
could hardly keep still. 

If you and I were at the peak of our 
popularity as is Mr. Gable, would we 
be so unaffected? Would we take time 
out to give one little girl a big thrill, 
even though we thought no one was ob- 
serving? I wonder? When you see Mr. 
Gable again on the screen, remember 
this little life drama, and know him 
better for the man he surely is. 
Miss E. Joy Fisher, 
Beverly Hills, Calif. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


I'm sorry for poor little wild-haired 
Luise Rainer, forever having babies on 
the screen. I suppose it wasn't enough 
to torture her all through "The Good 
Earth," so she has to suffer in "Big 
City," too. Goodness, she's going to be 
a regular film "lady who lived in a 
shoe — she had so many children, she 
didn't know what to do." 

She's so tiny and pretty, and her 
black eyes are big and she has lovely 
cheekbones. We'd like to see her in a 
modern comedy — not China or Vienna, 
no anguished partings, no more wring- 
ing of hands and flicking away of tears, 
and being rushed off to the maternity 
ward in a "nambulance." Please give 
screen motherhood to someone else, and 
let us have Luise light and gay. 

Mary Barger, 
Brockton, Mass. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


Jack Benny made a personal appear- 
ance in Garner, Iowa, on September 10, 
but only a dozen of the 1,600 inhabitants 
were aware of his presence. The other 
1,588 residents have been trying ever 
since to bear their disappointment at 
not seeing him. 

The famous entertainer and his broth- 
er-in-law stopped here for an hour to 
have their car repaired. They were en 
route to Hollywood from New York. 
Mr. Benny visited with the proprietors 
of the garage, who thought him a great 
person as well as a great personality, 
and then he walked the entire length 
of the business district without being 
recognized. In a local drugstore he 
went immediately to a newsstand, 
glanced over the array of periodicals, 
obviously intent on finding one certain 
magazine. Yes, you've guessed it. It was 
the October Photoplay. And so it hap- 
pened that Jack Benny personally pur- 
chased the first copy of the glamorous 
new Photoplay sold in Garner. 

Cholm G. Houghton, 
Garner, Iowa. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


Why, oh, why, can't you grant us 
one good look at La Dietrich? All stills 
of her are as misty as a London fog. 
We can't see her for the haze. I have 
been watching faithfully for years for 
just one good look, but I am continu- 
ally tantalized with the so-called mys- 
tery glaze in which the lady is wrapped 
like a Christmas doll in cellophane. The 
lady seems to be lovely enough for a 
clearer view, but I am beginning to 
wonder — is she, or isn't she? 

Robbie Rhea Spiney, 
Chicago, 111. 

"Marlene's beauty is highly distinc- 
tive. There is no other jace approximat- 
ing hers on the screen. I think a sculp- 
tor would probably tell you her beauty 
is about as close to perfection as human 
beings ever come. Next time you see 
her on the screen, watch her hands. 
They are as good-looking as her legs." 
From an article written by Ernst Lu- 
bitsch (director of "Angel," Miss Diet- 
rich's latest picture) which appeared in 
a recent New York paper. 


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How Tyrone Power Won the Lonely Heart of Janet Gaynor 

(Continued from page 15) 

filled her studio dressing room and, 
after the picture was finished, the 
entrance hall of her house for three 
months, to little Miss Gaynor's bewil- 
derment. "But I haven't the faintest 
idea who's sending them," she told the 
publicity department honestly, when 
they asked. 

"Some fan, I guess," she added; and 
she was right. 

During the next two weeks she was 
too busy to think much about red 
roses, anyway. She was through at 
20th Century-Fox and went under con- 
tract to David Selznick to make "A 
Star is Born" in Technicolor, and she 
knew that it was her last chance — her 
only chance — to retrieve her failing 
film fortunes, her weakening box-office 
value. Here was a magnificent story, 
made to order for her: she must make 
of it her rebirth to stardom. 

She worked like fury — and when the 
picture was previewed she knew the 
greatest personal triumph of her life. 
Janet Gaynor once again was one of 
the most important actresses in Holly- 

This circumstance was, in all prob- 
ability, one of the minor contributing 
factors to what happened then. This, 
and the realization between Sonja 
Henie and Tyrone that their friendship 
had run its course. 


'N the morning after the opening of 
the new Gaynor picture Tyrone came 
out of the studio cafe and met a friend 
— a studio worker who also was an 
intimate of Janet's. "Darling," he said, 
"did you see 'A Star is Born' last night? 
My God, don't miss it — she's marvelous. 
I've never seen such beauty, such — 
such — " 

"In other words you like it," the 
friend said, smiling. "I'm going to- 

Tyrone was staring into the distance. 
"You know," he said finally, "I wonder 
if she ever found out who sent her all 
those roses?" 

The friend began to laugh. "Why — 
you did, didn't you? Good heavens. I 
never imagined — " 

"How did you know?" 

"You just gave yourself away. How 
did you know about the flowers, in the 
first place, if you didn't send them your- 

He smiled sourly. "All right. She's 
so wonderful — d'you suppose something 

would explode if I phoned her some- 
time? I'd like to very much. I mean, 
do you think she'd mind?" 

"I'll ask her at dinner tonight," the 
friend assured him. "That's the best 
way to find out — " and went away 
before Tyrone could protest. 

Janet's friend gave Tyrone both the 
town house and beach cottage numbers. 
He called Janet the next night, and that 
was the beginning. He asked her to 
lunch at the Beverly Hills Brown 
Derby, and since she didn't have an 
engagement for the next day she ac- 
cepted; that cracked the shell of reti- 
cence, so that over the Spaghetti Derby 
he talked volubly, brilliantly. 

She looked at him closely then, saw 
that in addition to his eyes, the dimly 
remembered nicety of his mouth and 
the good hairline were actual, too. His 
mind, young, but sharpened by pre- 
cocious experience, was quick with 
inherent intelligence. He had enthu- 
siams about things; he had vitality. 
And his eyes worshipped her. . . 

It was after he had paid the check 
and they were preparing to leave that 
she was suddenly aware of a miracle; 
a hurt, old and long-present, was gone 
— replaced by a happier thing. She 
knew then that she must see Tyrone 
again. They settled it by having dinner 
together that night. 


^S I tap at this typewriter Janet 
Gaynor is in New York and Tyrone is 
with her. She had intended to be gone 
only a little while but even that was 
too long for young Mr. Power. He 
might have been able to wait until she 
returned if the mail hadn't begun to 
bring him little gifts from her — if mes- 
senger boys hadn't left wires from her 
under his door day and night — if the 
telephone hadn't rung so often to say, 
"One moment, please. New York is 

She fell in love with him because she 
couldn't help herself, but also because 
she needed him — and this love — more 
terribly than she had ever needed any- 
thing before in her life. In order to 
understand that, you must know Janet 
Gaynor and the story of those ten years 
during which Tyrone Power grew to 
manhood, during which she lived out 
her twenties and began the third decade 
of her life. 

It's a story of many loves, of heart- 
break and of great happiness, and it 

begins with a man named Herb Moul- 
ton. He was with a Los Angeles news- 
paper and she was a young actress; her 
friends will tell you that he adored her 
too much at the time, and so was un- 
happy when she discovered — very sud- 
denly — a young and very remarkable 
fellow named Charles Farrell, with 
whom she was to make a picture. 

Here was real, magnificent love for 
Janet. Although, at the time, Holly- 
wood considered their romance a pub- 
licity gesture, the thing they held for 
each other was compounded of a 
stronger faith and a stronger emotion 
than any that had gone before for either 
of them. 

It was the first tragedy for Janet 
Gaynor when they quarreled finally, ir- 
revocably; she married Lydell Peck, an 
Oakland attorney, almost immediately, 
and of course the inevitable happened. 
After her divorce from him there was a 
long blank period — without significance 
in her memory — during which she felt 
no emotion about anything, or anyone. 

It was broken by one Dr. Veblen, a 
New York dentist, for a time; and then, 
later, she saw a little of Gene Raymond 
and of Al Scott. Al she had known 
for years, all during the time he had 
been Colleen Moore's husband, so that 
didn't count. Gene might have meant 
more to her but he met Jeanette Mac- 
Donald. . . 

A little bewildered, Janet faced a 
turning point in her life. Her career 
was at stalemate; and the thing she had 
always feared had happened to her at 
last: she had decided to fall in love 
with a man, but he had slipped sud- 
denly away before she had had a chance 
to tell him so. 

Janet's rally was a brave one. She 
went into "Small Town Girl" deter- 
mined to make it a good picture, and 
her success was double, because she 
found Robert Taylor, too. They went 
everywhere together: to previews, to 
night clubs, to dances. And Janet was 

She could not believe it, actually, 
when he discovered Barbara Stanwyck. 


'N .THAT day when Janet first 
talked with Tyrone over a table at the 
Derby, her heart beat freely again — 

A few months before she had seen 
the rebirth of her own professional 
star. Today she saw, at least poten- 
tially, the rebirth of herself as a woman. 

Consider these two: this young man 
in his early twenties, this woman. If 
you are inclined to cynicism, to laugh- 
ter at his young impulsiveness, remem- 
ber that although he is twenty-three in 
years he is a shrewd and mature man 
mentally. The length of his life does 
not matter, so long as he has lived much 
of it; and Tyrone has wasted no single 
day or night, ever. 

He is in the top flight of a generation 
of boys who prefer their women to be 
older, because precociously they have 
known too many unevolved young girls 
too well. This is a generation which 
was born to a new era; which was blase 
about liquor by the time Repeal made 
it legal; which grew old early because 
it was forced to by things like War and 
the Jazz Age and Depression. At nine- 
teen, his girls were twenty-two and 
twenty-three; by the time he was a 
stock player in New York and Chicago, 
he fell most in love with women who, 
relatively, were as experienced as he. 

The things he and Janet do together, 
their conversation, their mutual inter- 
ests, entirely aside from the more per- 
sonal fact of their adoration for each 
other, are on the same mental plane. 
She likes to dance and he doesn't, very 
well; so they dance occasionally. He 
goes to all the rehearsals of her radio 
broadcasts and criticizes her work de- 
tachedly. They go to previews, they 
drive, they see the shows that come to 
Southern California. 

But, primarily, they like to dine 
quietly at her house and then spend the 
evening reading plays together — Ibsen 
and Shakespeare and Shaw and silly 
impromptu things like "She Stoops to 
Conquer" and the ebullient "Private 
Lives." With characters divided be- 
tween them, they act and read the 
various parts with great solemnity; 
their favorites are romantic comedies, 
written for the great universal audience. 

There are those in Hollywood who 
are directing pitying glances at this 
young man who dares lose his heart to 
a woman who has held so many young 
hearts in her hand. 

His friends will tell you that in New 
York he asked her to marry him, but 
that cannot be confirmed as yet. 

I think Janet will consider for a long 
time before she marries again. At pres- 
ent she is busy proving something to 
herself. If her interest in Tyrone sur- 
vives the outcome — then, perhaps. . . 

Brief Reviews 

(Continued from page 4) 

EXCLUSIVE Paramount 

Yellow journalism comes in for a lambasting in 
this newspaper yarn. Fred MacMurray and Charles 
Ruggles are reporters for the clean sheet. Frances 
Farmer and Lloyd Nolan come to plenty of grief 
representing the muckrakers. Its lusty, gusty fare 


Beverly Roberts plays a movie star on the skids 
in this tiresome pseudo-expose of the Hollywood 
publicity racket. Patric Knowles is the rundown 
nobleman whom she first marries, later deserts for 
her rejuvenated career. You'll see "Expensive 
H usbands" at the expense of a good evening. {Dec.) 

* 52ND STREET-Wanger-United Artists 

This musical saga of America's Montmartre is 
good entertainment. Scattered throughout the 
story of an old New York family's rise and fall when 
their street becomes overrun with speak-easies, are 
specialty numbers galore. The fine cast includes 
Ian Hunter, ZaSu Pitts, Leo Carrillo, Maria Shelton 
and Kenny Baker. (Dec.) 


Add the rowdy comedy of Jack Oakie to the de- 
lightful singing of John Boles and you have enter- 

tainment plus. Oakie is a fight promoter who 
guides his charge from a broken romance into a 
duel, then on to a fresh love. Margot Grahame and 
Ida Lupino are the objects of Mr. Boles' affections. 
A gay and lively farce. (Dec.) 


Jeanette MacDonald's newest venture into 
musical comedy without Nelson Eddy is a well- 
photographed, spectacular piece with a Napoleonic 
Spanish background involving spy activities. Allan 
Jones is Miss MacDonald's love this time, and they 
both contribute some blue-ribbon singing. (Oct.) 


Replete with the gay situations and dialogue 
that characterized the stage play, this satire on 
Washington intrigue should amuse you. Kay 
Francis, multigowned as usual, does a brilliant 
job as the ambitious wife of politician Preston 
Foster, and Verree Teasdale takes honors as Kay's 
adversary over the teacups. (Nov.) 


Herewith Joe E. Brown in a "you chase me and 
I'll chase you" comedy with all the usual Brown 
antics. Joe is a reporter sent to cover the story of 
a Kansas-born princess (Helen Mack) who is about 
to be assassinated. Poor Joe is scooped at every 
turn. Brown fans will adore every reel. (Dec.) 


This thrilling story of planes and fliers has all the 
symptoms of a hit picture. It concerns a brutal 
setup at a small airport in the Andes. Headman 
Onslow Stevens sends men to their death in ruined 
planes. Chester Morris and Whitney Bourne 
finally find the answer to liberty and love. (Oct.) 


Definitely Jessie Matthews' best picture to date, 
this gay crook musical has delicious song and lyrics 
and Jessie's dancing tied together in a giddy story 
of a young English girl's mix-ups with gangs, gun- 
men and Scotland Yard men. One of the latter 
helps her straighten out her love life. (Oct.) 


Set against the colorful background of the 
Eighteenth Century, this centers around the per- 
sonality of England's greatest actor, David 
Garrick, played by Brian Aherne. The plot in- 
volves the efforts of the actors of the Comedie 
Franeaise to make a fool of David by hiring an inn, 
manning it with their troupe. Olivia de Havilland, 
as Garrick's lady love, is completely devastating. 


The situations and gags than enliven Fred Stone's 
predicament as the shiftless yokel whose farm is 

used as a hide-out by a gang of crooks provide some 
good comedy. Emma Dunn is Stone's energetic 
wife; Marjorie Lord his pretty daughter. Your 
whole family should enjoy it. (Oct.) 


As a combination of epic, musical and thundering 
melodrama, this experiment sometimes curdles, but 
Irene Dunne, in fine voice, is alone worth the 
admission. She is presented as a carnival girl who 
marries farmer Randolph Scott. They finally dis- 
cover oil for the lamps of Erie under the cabbages 
Top-notch. (Oct.) 

HOT WATER-20th Century-Fox 

Here comes the Jones family again — and in 
trouble as usual. Pa Jones (Jed Prouty) is a candi- 
date for mayor, but almost loses the election when 
blackguards frame his son in a messy scandal. 
Spring Byington, Kenneth Howell, Shirley Deane 
and the usual Jones cast. (Oct.) 

IT'S ALL YOURS Columbia 

This consists mostly of charm by Francis 
Lederer, beauty by Madeleine Carroll, and non- 
sense by Mischa Auer. There is much to-do about 
an inheritance, and True Love comes out of a 
triangle romance. At times it's pretty funny. (Oct.) 



This allows Bette Davis and Leslie Howard to 
drop their previous sufferings and romp through one 
of the gayest and smartest of the new comedies. 
Playing stage players in love with each other but 
temperamentally allergic, they are ably supported 
by Olivia de Havilland, Patric Knowles, and par- 
ticularly Eric Blore, whose brand of humor grows 
increasingly contagious. (Oct.) 

LANCER SPY— 20th Century-Fox 

If you like espionage thrillers, you won't go wrong 
here. George Sanders (remember him as the hand- 
s-tin- villain in "Lloyds of London"?) all but wins 
the World War by impersonating a captured 
Prussian officer in Berlin. Dolores Del Rio betrays 
her Fatherland for hopeless love. Exceptionally 
line cast. (Dec.) 


Spouting energy and madness from every pore, 
the Ritz Brothers literally bludgeon you into 
laughter in this AU-American football musical built 
around a washed-up coach. Fred Stone, and a rich 
Indian who saves Stone's reputation for "dear old 
Lombardy." Joan Davis does a Martha Raye; 
Gloria Stuart pairs with newcomer Dick Baldwin 
for romance. (Dec.) 


Joe Penner's juvenile whimsey. Gene Raymond's 
blond hair and a half-dozen famous comedians are 
high-lighted in this v rather good musical. Harriet 
Milliard, a socialite in search of a career, is Ray- 
mond's cookie, and you'll laugh at Billy Gilbert, 
Helen Broderick and Parkyakarkus. (Nov.) 


Here is the usual mystery with the usual formula, 
the first ingredient of which is the reporter sleuth. 
Though the murderer masks his identity behind an 
umbrella, of all things, George Murphy finally 
solves the crime with the help of his girl Watson, 
Rita Johnson. (Oct.) 


A new star, Ronald Reagan, makes his bow in 
this tale of radio. As Uncle Andy of the kiddies' 
hour, he finds himself plunged into a gangster's 
war. June Travis, as his girl friend, is attractive, 
Ronald himself is excellent, and the cast is okay 
too. (Nov.) 

LOVE UNDER FIRE— 20th Century-Fox 

As a new production in the current cycle of 
Spanish war pictures, this one was fired at and 
missed. It is built around the antique story of a 
Scotland Yard man chasing a beautiful woman 
thief through shot and shell. Don Ameche, 
Loretta Young and Borrah Minnevitch try very 
hard. (Oct.) 


No matter how many times you have seen this 
famous tear-jerker you will weep again at this new 
version. Gladys George is simply brilliant as the 
misunderstood wife who becomes a dissolute 
slattern. John Beal as her son and Warren William 
as her coldly moral husband are both exceptional. 


One of the weaker Bobby Breen vehicles, this 
takes the singing boy to a Maine camp where his 
silvery voice inspires virtuoso Basil Rathbone to 
finish an opera. Marion Claire is Bobby's mother. 
You'll find the music easy to hum. (Nov.) 


Loaded with the iron weight of faulty story 
construction, this "who dunnit" tale sinks to the 
bottom and stays there. Lewis Stone is the pro- 
fessional murder confessor who involves his son, 
Tom Brown, in his evil ways. Morbid and un- 
inspired. (.Nov.) 


Tuneful and colorful, this introduces Kenny 
Baker, of ether fame, portraying a strawberry 
festival songbird who is "discovered," hits the big 
time, falls in love. The girl is Jane Wyman. Baker 
promises to be a pleasant addition to the screen. 


Nino Martini's famous voice counteracts the 
weakness of this wandering story about a singer 
accused of stealing a pearl necklace. Alan Mow- 
bray's satirical take-off of a noted symphonic con- 
ductor is amusing; Joan Fontaine is pretty and the 
Hollywood Bowl scenes are impressive. You'll like 
the music. (Dec.) 


Don't see this unless you're in a tolerant mood. 
It's a minor newspaper hodgepodge in which 
Maureen O'Sullivan inherits "The Globe," falls 
in love with editor Walter Pidgeon. Edna May 
Oliver provides the only vitality. (Nov.) 


There's one thing this picture has plenty of — and 
that's suspense. Blonde Anna Lee is the English 
chorine wanted in America as witness to a murder. 
She manages by a clever ruse to outwit gangsters 
who seek to detain her, hops a transatlantic plane, 
makes life miserable for John Loder, Scotland Yard 
bloodhound. Desmond Tester is perfect as the in- 
quisitive child prodigy. (Dec.) 

ON SUCH A NIGHT-Paramount 

Someone was bound to make a picture of the 
Mississippi flood, and this irritating murder 
mystery is it. You can't imagine what Karen 
Morley and Grant Richards will do against the 

menace of Eduardo Ciannelli, nor do you care. 
The cast is good, but the story unbelievable and 
forced. (Oct.) 

■k 100 MEN AND A GIRL-Universal 

Here is practically a perfect picture, combining 
as it does an ingenuously new and fresh story built 
around unemployed musicians, Deanna Durbin's 
entrancing singing, and the superb rendition of 
some of the world's loveliest classical music by 
the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra conducted 
by Leopold Stokowski. See this if you don't see 
another picture this year. (Nov.) 

ONE MILE FROM HEAVEN-20th Century-Fox 

Bill Robinson's dancing and Fredi Washington's 
warm performance lift this mild melodrama from 
utter mediocrity. The complications revolve 
around a white child and a colored woman who 
claims parentage. There are shootings, prison 
breaks and kidnapings. Claire Trevor is the news- 
paper wench who fixes everything. (Oct.) 


Erro! Flynn takes this high-voltage comedy in 
his stride, portraying the heir to S30,000,000 who 
has been shut away from the world, educated by 
his tyrant grandmother (May Robson) to be "the 
perfect specimen" of his class. Joan Blondell lures 
him out of his cocoon, teaches him really to live. 
Dick Foran, Edward E. Horton, Allen Jenkins and 
Beverly Roberts all contribute. Fast, furious and 
funny. (Dec.) 

Youth's ideal — Benny Goodman 
— swings it plenty hot with 
his drummer Gene Krupa in 
Warners' "Hollywood Hotel" 

United Artists 

This second screening of Anthony Hope's 
veteran adventure story will thrill you with its 
colorful drama, its beautiful settings, the realistic 
acting of Ronald Colman as King and commoner, 
and the gracious beauty of Madeleine Carroll as 
Princess Flavia. Raymond Massey is ; outstanding 
as the King's Machiavellian brother* and Doug 
Fairbanks, Jr. is a deep-dyed villain. Go and 
renew your youth. (Nov.) 


Although as cinema, this is good hash, there is an 
invigorating silly angle to the murder mystery 
theme. William Gargan is the writer of blood 
thrillers who gets himself involved in the real 
McCoy. Orien Heyward is pretty as his wife, 
but by no means another Duse. (Nov.) 


Ramon Novarro's screen comeback finds him in 
the garb of an Arab making his famous brand of 
love to a corkscrew heiress, played by Lola Lane. 
Novarro's charm is as effective as ever. See it for 
the several nice songs you will hear and for a laugh 
or two. (Oct.) 


James Cagney's latest picture presents him as a 
New York hoofer gone Hollywood. Evelyn Daw, 
a charming new singer, is his bride; Mona Barrie 
the actress-temptress, Gene Lockhart the mulish 
producer. Well recommended. (Nov.) 


There is almost nothing good that can be said for 
this jumbled, confused, dull, utterly uninteresting 
picture. Gertrude Michael is the beautiful re- 
formed jewel thief accused of stealing the Rajah's 
diamond. You simply don't care whether she did 
or not. (Nov.) 

• SOULS AT SEA-Paramount 

An intensely interesting epic of men against the 
sea based on an incident in maritime history in the 

1850's. When his ship is wrecked. Gary Cooper 
decides who shall survive, is put on trial fur In life 
later because of his decision. Cooper, George Raft, 
Frances Dee and the entire cast are superlative. 


The hullabaloo of a theatrical boardinghouse is 
the background of this great story of young 
actresses who battle Broadway for minor fame and 
a scant living. Ginger Rogers gives an excellent 
account of herself in a dramatic role, Katharine 
Hepburn does fine work, Andrea Leeds almost 
steals the show, and Adolphe Menjou a- the 
philandering producer is highly amusing. Director 
LaCava deserves orchids for a brilliant picture. 
Don't miss it. (Nov.) 

• STAND-IN— Wanger-United Artists 

C. B. Kelland's swell story of a narrow-minded 
banker (Leslie Howard) who invades Hollywood to 
save a studio from financial ruin. Joan Blondell is 
extra special as the former baby star who teaches 
Howard that all figures do not have mathematical 
connotations, and Maria Shelton as the glamour 
gal he compromises does grand work. Warning: 
don't believe all this picture tells you about Holly- 
wood. {Dec.) 

• STELLA DALLAS-United Artists 

Samuel Goldwyn (who produced the silent ver- 
sion) again brings to the screen this poignant story 
of mother love. Barbara Stanwyck is splendidly 
sincere as the flamboyant mill girl who sets her cap 
for a gentleman (John Boles), catches him, and in 
her love for her daughter (Anne Shirley), reaches 
the heights of self-sacrifice and devotion. Cast, 
production and direction are superb. {Oct.) 


A remake of Gloria Swanson's "The Trespasser," 
this now promotes Bette Davis as the gangster 
widow who falls in love with shilly-shallying Henry 
Fonda. Their stolen love yields nothing but sacri- 
fice and misery for everybody. The cast is splen- 
did. Take two hankies with you. (Oct.) 

• THIN ICE 20th Century-Fox 

A happy combination of romance and music, 
spectacle and comedy, starring Sonja Henie, the 
dazzling little Queen of the leeways, and handsome, 
gangling Tyrone Power. There are four magnif- 
icent skating sequences and you'll appreciate the 
humor of Arthur Treacher, Raymond Walburn and 
Joan Davis. Simply elegant. (Nov.) 


A nicely scored and mildly entertaining musical, 
this permits Betty Grable, a theater usherette, to 
fall in love with crooner Buddy Rogers, usurp his 
place as stage attraction number one. Mary 
Livingstone smart -cracks, Ned Sparks dead-pans, 
and Fibber McGee and Molly (of radio) add their 
bit of fun. {Dec.) 


Here is a rollicking three cheers for dear old 
Rutgers musical with Fred Waring and his band, 
Dick Powell, Walter Catlett, Ted Healy and others 
leaping the goal post for a touchdown. Dick is the 
successful alumnus who does his bit for Alma Mater 
by putting the pretty coeds on Broadway. Priscilla 
and Rosemary Lane go to_town. (Oct.) 


. Another epic of English history, the story of one 
of its greatest queens, has been made into a beauti- 
ful and moving chronicle of a woman and an 
empire. Anna Neagle and Anton Walbrook are 
excellent in the title roles. Honest, dignified and 
entertaining. (Oct.) 

VOGUES OF 1938 Wanger-United Artists 

Never has Technicolor proved itself so screen- 
worthy as in this pageant of beauty, fashions and 
music basted together with the thread of a plot 
involving Warner Baxter, a dressmaker, Helen 
Vinson, his wife, and Joan Bennett, a decorative 
deb. A major screen achievement. (Oct.) 

• WIFE, DOCTOR AND NURSE 20th Century- 

With a simplicity and lack of melodramatics that 
make an outstandingly convincing portrait of 
hospital life, Director Walter Lang has created a 
superb picture. Warner Baxter is the surgeon, 
Virginia Bruce his assistant, Loretta Young his 
wife. All of them do splendidly. You'll love it. 


Barton MacLane takes care of the horses by 
gambling at the race track. Peggy Bates and Ann 
Sheridan are the women. The wine, if any, is warm 
and of poor vintage. You can do better reading a 
racing sheet. (Oct.) 


A provocative story theme — an expose of the 
religious cult racket — and George Murphy's nice 
work make this hurried picture entertaining. 
George's philandering wife, Claire Dodd, plays 
hob with his life, and Josephine Hutchinson plays 
hearts with him at the finale. (Nov.) 



You can have everything in the way of entertain- 
ment here. This gay, slyly suggestive, amusing 
comedy has Don Ameche and Alice Faye for 
love content, Louise Hovick (nee Gypsy Rose Lee) 
for sex, the Ritz Brothers for fun, and a sure-fire 
plot about an ambitious young thing trying to crack 
Broadway to hold them all together. What more 
do you want? It's a pushover. (Oct.) 

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The Shadow Stage 

(Continued from page 48) 


JOHN HOWARD, as Bulldog Drum- 
^ mond, Scotland Yard detective who 
always gets his man, this time finds him- 
self in a mysterious chase with inter- 
national crooks who have stolen a box 
of high explosives. A thick fog deepens 
the eerie chase but detective John Bar- 
rymore's light banter succeeds in lift- 
ing most of the gloom. Louise Camp- 
bell again plays the sweetheart of 
Drummond, and Reginald Denny is his 


CUCH things as this couldn't happen 
^ in any newspaper office under the 
sun, but the antics of Walter Pidgeon, 
Wendy Barrie and Kent Taylor, news- 
paper trio, provide many laughs; so who 
cares? Wendy wins the ' paper away 
from Pidgeon by way of libel suit and 
the friendly rivalry between the two 
provides a framework on which is 
draped a lot of first-rate nonsense. 

George Barbier as Wendy's father is 
really riotous. 

20th Century-Fox 

THE smoothness of Warner Oland's 
' work as Charlie Chan, the laughable 
blunders of his son, Keye Luke, and the 
tiptop comedy of Harold Huber con- 
tribute toward making this one of the 
very best Chan stories. This time Chan 
is called into service by Sydney Black - 
mer and Edward Raquello, rival finan- 
ciers, whose feuding results in theft and 
murder. Virginia Field and Kay Lina- 
ker are the fair maids in the mystery. 

BORROWING TROUBLE— 20th Century-Fox 

ONCE more the Jones family descends 
upon us with all their homey trials 
and tribulations. This time Jed Prouty 
and Spring Byington, pa and ma Jones, 
take in a wayward boy who is promptly 
suspected of robbing the Jones' drug- 
store. Amid all the chase and hullaba- 
loo that follows, Russell Gleason finally 

marries Shirley Deane, oldest Jones 
girl. This is a little like sugar-candy 
hearts with mottoes on them. 


THIS thrilling, chilling murder mystery 
is laid on an island army post. When 
Eddie Craven attempts to smuggle his 
wife, Marie Wilson, onto the island, he 
discovers the body of a murdered man. 
Boris Karloff is promptly suspected but 
it falls to Marie Wilson, in her best 
dumb-Dora manner, to solve the crime. 


I I ERE is an antiquated yarn built 

' ' around a college hero, William Hop- 
per, who agrees to give up football to 
please his sweetheart, June Travis. 
When the team finally faces a crisis, 
Hopper is called upon to decide be- 
tween June and his alma mater. Johnnie 
Davis, with his scat dnging, livens 
things up a bit, and Hopper's sterling 
performance brightens the overworked 


WITH a quip on his lips and deter- 
mination in his heart, Richard 
Arlen, artist photographer, leaps into a 
murder mystery in order to shield Fay 
Wray, beautiful suspect. 

Naturally the two quarrel and fuss 
throughout most of the story, only to 
fall headlong in love before it's over. 
The Murder? Oh yes, it's solved in a 
unique manner by a very cooperative 


BASED on the pathetically thin story 
of a pair of hoofers trying to marry 
off the dumb Dora of their act, this 
musical hotchpot begins nowhere and 
ends in exactly the same spot. The 
Yacht Club boys clown in song, Judy 
Canova and Ben Blue offer several 
frantic dance numbers, Betty Grable 
and Leif Erikson fall in love, Eleanor 
Whitney and Johnny Downs hoof, and 
Dorothy Lamour sings a torch song. 

Casts of Current Pictures 

tury-Fox. — Screen play by Harry Tugend and 
Jack Yellen. Based on a story by Gene Towne, 
Graham Baker and Gene Fowler. Music and lyrics 
by Mack Gordon and Harry Revel. Directed by 
David Butler. The Cast: Alt Baha, Eddie Cantor; 
Yusuf, Tony Martin; Sultan, Roland Young; 
Princess Miriam, June Lang; Sultana, Louise 
Hovick; Ishak, John Carradine; Dinah, Virginia 
Field; Boland, Alan Dinehart; Prince Musah, 
Douglas Dumbrille; Raymond Scott Quintet, Them- 
selves; Omar the Rug Maker, Maurice Cass; Tramps, 
Warren Hymer and Stanley Fields; Captain, Paul 
Hurst; Radio Announcer, Sam Hayes; Selim. 
Douglas Wood; Assistant Director, Sidney Fields; 
Doctor, Charles Lane; Specially Act, the Pearl Twins. 

"BARRIER, THE"— Paramount.— From the 
story by Rex Beach. Screen play by Bernard 
Schubert. Harrison Jacobs and Mordaunt Shairp. 
Directed by Leslie Selander. The Cast: Poleon 
Dorel, Leo Carrillo; Necia, Jean Parker; Lieut. 
Burrell, James Ellison; John Gale, Robert Barrat; 
Stark, Otto Kruger; No Creek Lee, Andy Clyde; 
Runnion, Addison Richards; Alluna, Sara Haden; 
Sergeant Thomas, J. M. Kerrigan; Molly, Sally 
Martin; Johnny, Fernando Alvarado; Sergeant 
Tobin, Alan Davis. 

" BORROWING TROUBLE"— 20rH Century- 
Fox. —Original story and screen play by Robert 
Chapin and Karen De Wolf. Based on the char- 
acters created by Katharine Kavanaugh. Directed 
by Frank R. Strayer. The Cast: John Jones, Jed 
Prouty; Bonnie Jones, Shirley Deane; Mrs. John 
Jones, Spring Byington; Herbert Thompson, Russell 
Gleason; Jack Jones, Kenneth Howeil; Roger Jones, 
George Ernest; Lucy Jones, June Carlson; Granny 
Jones, Florence Roberts; Bobby Jones, Billy Mahan; 
Tommy McGuire, Marvin Stephens; Uncle George, 
Andrew Tombes; Judge Wallers, Howard Hickman- 
Chief Kelly, Cy Kendall; Charlie, Joseph Downing; 
Lester McGuire, George Walcott; Joe, Dick Wessel; 
Sergeant Callahan, Wade Boteler. 

Paramount. — Screen play by Edward T. Lowe 
based on the story by H. C. (Sapper) McNiele. 
Directed by Louis King. The Cast: Colonel 
Nielson, John Barrymore; Phyllis Clavering, Louise 
Campbell; Capl. Hugh "Bulldog" Drummond, John 
Howard; Tenny, E. E. Clive; Algy Longworth, 
Reginald Denny; Draven Nogais, Frank Puglia; 
Given Longworth, Nydia Westman; Hardcaslle, 
Robert Gleckler; Mr. Smith, Lucien Littlefield; 
Xielson's Secretary, John Sutton; Samio Kanda. 
Miti Morita; Cabin Boy, Bennie Bartlett. 

20th Century-Fox. — Original story by Robert 
Fllis and Helen Logan. Screen play by Charles 
Belden and Jerry Cady. Based on the character 
created by Earl Derr Biggers. Directed by Eugene 
Forde. The Cast: Charlie Chan, Warner Oland; Lee 
Chan, Keye Luke; Evelyn Grey, Virginia Field; 
Victor Karnoff, Sidney Blackmer; Jules Jouberl, 
Harold Huber; Joan Karnoff, Kay Linaker; Gordon 
Chase, Robert Kent; Paul Savarin, Edward 
Raquello; Al Rogers, George Lynn; Taxi Driver, 
Louis Mercier; Pepile, George Davis; Ludwig, John 
Bleifer; Renault, Georges Renevent. 

"CONQUEST"— M-G-M.— Based on a book 
by Waclaw Gasiorowski and a dramatization by 
Helen Jerome. Screen play by Samuel Hoffenstein, 
Salka Viertel and S. N. Behrman. Directed by 
Clarence Brown. The Cast: Marie Walewska, Greta 
Garbo; Napoleon, Charles Boyer; Talleyrand, 
Reginald Owen; Captain D'Ornano, Alan Marshall; 
( ounl Waleivski, Henry Stephenson; Paul Lachinski, 
Leif Erickson; Laetitia Bonaparte, Dame May 
whitty, Prime Ponialowski. C. Henry Gordon; 

Countess Pelagia, Maria Oupenskaya; Stephan, 
Claude Gillingwate: ; Marshal Duroc, George 
Houston; Senator Malachowski, George Zucco; 
Ruslan, Noble Johnson; Constant, George Givot; 
Alexandre, Scotty Beckett; Senator Wybitcki, Henry 
Kolker; Cossack Captain, Ivan Lebedeff; Anna, 
Bodil Rosing; Countess Potdcki, Oscar Apfel; Prin- 
cess Mirska, Betty Blythe; Grenadier, George Davis; 
Persian Ambassador, Dr. Ferid; Persian Interpreter, 
Pasha Khan; Turkish A mbassador, Carlos De Valdez; 
Slaps, Roland Varno; Captain Laroux, Robert 
Warwick; Prince Mellernich, Ien Wulf; Maria 
Louisa, Jean Fenwick; Bianca, Rosina Galli; 
Lejeune, Ralf Harolde; Dying Soldier, Vladimir 
Sokoloff. , 

"DANGER— LOVE AT WORK"— 20th Cen- 
tury-Fox. — Screen play by James Edward Grant 
and Ben Markson. Based on a story by James 
Edward Grant. Directed by Otto L. Preminger. 
The Cast: Toni Pemberlon, Ann Sothern; Henry 
MacMorrovi, Jack Haley; Mrs. Alice Pemberlon, 
Mary Boland; Howard Rogers, Edward Everett 
Horton; Herbert Pemberlon, John Carradine; Uncle 
Alan, Walter Catlett; Junior Pemberlon, Bennie 
Bartlett; Uncle Goliath, Maurice Cass; Allan 
Duncan, Alan Dinehart; Albert Pemberlon, Etienne 
Girardot; Wilbur, E. E. Clive; Aunt Patty, Mar- 
garet McWade; Aunt Pitty, Margaret Seddon; 
Chemist, Elisha Cook, Jr.; Pemberlon s Maid, Hilda 
Vaughn; Henry's Butler, Charles Coleman; At- 
tendant, George Chandler; Hick, Spencer Charters; 
Chauffeur, Hal K. Dawson; Thug, Stanley Fields; 
Police Officer, Paul Hurst; Salesman, Claude 
Allister; Parsons, Jonathan Hale; Gilroy, Charles 

"DOCTOR SYN"—GB.— Based on the novel 
by Russell Thorndyke. Directed by Roy Neill. 
The Cast: Dr. Syn, George Arliss; Imogene, Mar- 
garet Lockwood; Denis, John Loder; Captain 
Collyer, Roy Emerton; Jerry Jerk, Graham Moffatt; 
Rash, Frederick Burtwell; Mipps, George Merritt; 
Squire Cobtree, Athole Stewart; Dr. Pepper, Wilson 
Coleman; Bosun, Wally Patch; Mulatto, Meinhart 

"45 FATHERS"— 20th Century-Fox.— Screen 
play by Frances Hyland and Albert Ray. Based on 
a story by Mary Bickel. Directed by James 
Tinling. The Cast: Judith Frazier, Jane Withers; 
Roger Farragul, Thomas Beck; Elizabeth Carter 
Louise Henry; Joe McCoy and Flo McCoy, The 
Hartmans; Bunny Carothers, Richard Carle; Mrs. 
Carter, Nella Walker; Judge, Andrew Tombes; 
Vincent, Leon Ames; Professor Ziska, Sammy 
Cohen; Professor Bellini, George Givot; Sarah, 
Ruth Warren; Beulah, Hattie McDaniel; Hastings, 
Romaine Callendar. 

"GIRL WITH IDEAS, A"— Universal.— 
Story by William Rankin, screen play by Bruce 
Manning and Robert T. Shannon. Directed by S. 
Sylvan Simon. The Cast: Mary Morion, Wendy 
Barrie; "Mickey" McGuire, Walter Pidgeon; Frank 
Barnes, Kent Taylor; Isabelle Foster, Dorothea 
Kent; John F. Morton, George Barbier; Pete Dailey, 
TeJ Osborn; William Duncan, Henry Hunter; 
Rodding Carter. Samuel S. Hinds; Toni, George 
Humbert; Al, Horace MacMahon; Eddie, Ed 
Gargan; H anion, Norman Willis. 

"HEIDI" — 20th Century-Fox. — From the 
story by Johanna Spyri. Screen play by Walter 
Ferris and Julien Josephson. Directed by Allan 
Dwan. The Cist: Heidi, Shirley Temple; Adolph 
Kramer. Jean Hersholt; Andrews, Arthur Treacher; 
Blind Anna, Helen Westley; Elsa, Pauline Moore; 
Pastor Schultz, Thomas Beck; Fraulein Roltenmeier, 
Mary Nash; Sesemann, Sidney Blackmer; Dele, 
Mady Christians; Police Captain, Sig Rumann; 
Klara Sesemann, Marcia Mae Jones; Peter, Delmar 

Watson; Inn Keeper, Egon Brecher; Baker. 
Christian Rub; Organ Grinder, George Humbert. 

"HURRICANE, THE" — Sam Goldwyn- 
United Artists. — From the novel by Charles 
Nordhoff and James Norman Hall. Screen play by 
Dudley Nichols. Directed by John Ford. The 
Cast: Marama, Dorothy Lamour; Terangi, Jon 
Hall; Mme. De Laage, Mary Astor; Father Paul, 
C. Aubrey Smith; Dr. Kersaini, Thomas Mitchell; 
DeLagge, Raymond Massey; Warden, John Car- 
radine; Captain Nagle, Jerome Cowan; Chief 
Mehevi, Al Kikume; Tita, Kuulei DeCIercq; Mako, 
Layne Tom, Jr.; Ilitia, Mamo Clark; Aral, Movita 
Castenada; Reri, Reri; Tavi, Francis Kaai; Mala, 
Pauline Steele; Mama Rua, Flora Hayes; Marunga, 
Mary Shaw; Judge, Spencer Charters; Captain of 
the Guards, Roger Drake; Girl on Ship, Inez 

"LADY FIGHTS BACK, THE"— Universal. 
— Based on the novel " Heather of the High Hand " 
by Arthur Stringer. Screenplay by Brown Holmes 
and R. T. Shannon. Directed by Milton Carruth. 
The Cast: Owen Merrill, Kent Taylor; Heather 
McIIale, Irene Hervey; Doug McKenzie, William 
Ludigan; McTavish, Willie Best; Steve Crowder, 
Chick Chandler; Janssen, Joe Sawyer; Maloney, 
Paul Hurst; Commissioner Allen, Ernest Cossart; 
Sir Daniel Andrews, Gerald Oliver Smith. 

Screen play by Charles Brackett, Cyril Hume and 
Richard Maibaum. Original story by Marion 
Parsonnet. Suggested by a story of Helen Grace 
Carlisle. Directed by George Fitzmaurice. The 
Cast: Bob Graham, Robert Montgomery; Julie 
Stoddard, Rosalind Russell; Oscar, Robert Benchley; 
Lily Chalmers, Helen Vinson; Jerry Crump, 
Mickey Rooney; Mr. Bawltiiude, Monty Woolley; 
Mr. Palmiston, E. E. Clive; Pedro Filipe, Charles 
Judels; Mrs. Crump, Maude Eburne; Justice of Ih- 
Peace, Harlan Briggs; Post. June Clayworth 
Fraum, Al Shean. 

"LIVING ON LOVE"— RKO- Radio.— Based 
on a novel by John Wells. Screen play by Franklin 
Coen. Directed by Lew Landers. The Cast: Mary 
Wilson, Whitney Bourne; Gary Martin, Jami-3 
Dunn; Edith Crumwell, Joan Woodbury; Eli West, 
Solly Ward; Pete, Tom Kennedy; Oglethorpe, 
Franklin Pangborn; Ghonoff Brothers, Terrell and 
Faucett; Lizbeth, Etta McDaniels; Madame 
LaV alley, Evelyn Carrington; Jessup, Chester 
Clute; Truck Driver, Harry Bowen; Alex, Otto 

"LOOK OUT, MR. MOTO"— 20th Century- 
Fox. — Screen play by Lou Breslow and John 
Patrick. Original story by Willis Cooper and 
Norman Foster. Based on the character " Mr. 
Moto" created by J. P. Marquand. Directed by 
Norman Foster. The Cast: Mr. Moto, Peter Lorre; 
1 ictoria Mason, Rochelle Hudson; Marty Weston, 
Robert Kent; Rajah Ali, J. Edward Bromberg; 
( hick Davis, Chick Chandler; Bokor, George 
Regas; Zimmerman, Fredrik Vogeding. 

" MERRY-GO-ROUND OF 1938"— Universal. 
— Original story and screen play by Monte Brice, 
Henry Myers and A. Dorian Otvos. Music by 
Jimmy McHugh and Harold Adamson. Directed 
by Irving Cummings. The Cast: Bert, Bert Lahr; 
Jimmy, Jimmy Savo; Billy, Billy House; Aunt 
Horlense, Alice Brady; Mischa, Mischa Auer; 
i, Joy Hodges; Mrs, Updike, Louise Fazenda; 
Tony, John King; Clarice, Barbara Read; Hector, 
Howard Cantonwine. 

Screen play by George Bruce. From the book by 
George Bruce. Directed by Sam Wood. The Cast: 

Roger Ash, Robert Young; "Truck" Cross, James 
Stewart; Captain "Skinny" Dawes, Lionel Barry- 
more; Patricia Gates, Florence Rice; Mrs. Gates, 
Billie Burke; Richard Gates, Jr., Tom Brown; 
Rii hard Gales, Sr., Samuel L. Hinds; Tommy 
Milton, Paul Kelly; Graves, Barnett Parker; 
Weeks, Frank Albertson; Lieut. Milburn, Minor 
Watson; Academy Superintendent, Robert Middle- 
mass; Kelly, Phillip Terry; Commander Carter, 
Charles Waldron; Coach of Southern Institute, Pat 
Flaherty; Lieut, of Marines, Stanley Morner; 
Heckler, Matt McHugh. 

"OVER THE GOAL"— Warners.— Screenplay 
by William Jacobs and Anthony Coldeway. 
Original story by William Jacobs. Directed by 
Noel Smith. The Cast: Lucille Martin, June 
Travis; Tiny Waldron, Johnnie Davis; Benton, 
Gordon Oliver; Duke Davis, Willard Parker; Abner, 
Raymond Hatton; Dr. Marshall, Douglas Wood; 
Hannah, Hattie McDaniels; Peters, Eddie Chan- 
dler; Pinky, Jack Chapin; King, John Craven; Ken 
Thomas, William Hopper; Bee, Mabel Todd; Jim 
Shelly, William Harrigan; Dr. Martin, Eric Stanley; 
Stanley Short, Herbert Rawlinson; William, Eddie 
Anderson; Clay, Fred McKaye; Teddy, George 
Offerman, Jr.; Larkin, Robert Hoover. 

"PORTIA ON TRIAL"— Rei ublic— Original 
story by Faith Baldwin. Screen play by Samuel 
Ornitz, adaptation and additional dialogue by E. 
E. Paramore, Jr. Directed by George Nicholls, Jr. 
The Cast: Dan Foster, Walter Abel; Portia Herri- 
man, Frieda Inescort; Earle Condon, Neil Hamil- 
ton; Elizabeth Manners, Heather Angel; Jane 
Wilkins, Ruth Donnelly; Evelyn, Barbara Pepper; 
John Condon, Clarence Kolb; Richard Condon, 
Anthony Marsh; Judge, Paul Stanton; Efe, George, 
Cooper; Hank, John Kelly; Governor, Hobart 
Bosworth; Father Casicz, Ian Maclaren; Barker, 
Chick Chandler; Inspector, Bob Murphy; Mrs. 
Gannow, Ines Palange; Joe Gannow, Leo Gorcey; 
Dr. Thorndike, Huntly Gordon; Mrs. Manners, 
Marion Ballou; Jack Madden, Hooper Atchley; 
First Committeeman, Nat Carr; Switchboard Oper- 
ator, Lucie Kaye. 

"SECOND HONEYMOON"— 20th Century- 
Fox. — Screen play by Kathryn Scola and Darrell 
Ware. Based on the Red Book Magazine story by 
Philip Wylie. Directed by Walter Lang. The 
Cast: Raoul McLiesh, Tyrone Power; Vicky, 
Loretta Young; Leo MacTavish, Stuart Erwin; 
Marcia, Claire Trevor; Joy, Marjorie Weaver; Bob 
Benton, Lyle Talbot; Herbie, J. Edward Bromberg; 
Dennis Huggins, Paul Hurst; Paula, Jayne Regan; 
Andy, Hal K. Dawson; Elsie, Mary Treen. 

Original screen play by Carlton Sand and Morton 
Grant. Directed by Johnny Farrow. The Cast: 
Red Tyler, Dick Foran; Margie Shannon, Ann 
Sheridan; Smokey Shannon, Robert Armstrong; 
Skillet, Eddie Acuff; Belly, Veda Ann Borg; Mrs. 
Michaels, May Beatty; Callahan, Eddie Chandler; 
Patton, Lane Chandler; Lieu:. Grimes, Ted Oliver; 
Duggan, Pat Flaherty. 

Screen play by Crane Wilbur. From the play by 
Ralph Spencer Zink. Directed by John Farrow. 
The Cast: Jevries, Boris Karloff; Sally, Marie 
Wilson; Edaie Pratt, Eddie Craven; Corporal 
Sanger, Eddie Acuff; Lieut. Matthews, Regis 
Toomey; Colonel Hackell, Henry Kolker; Colonel 
Ro ers, Cy Kendall; Dr. Brooks, Charles Trow- 
bridge; Private of the Guard, Frank Faylen; Private 
Berris, William Haade; Reilly, Harland Tucker; 
Aline Dolman, Phyllis Barry; Private lnnes, John 
Ridgely; Sergeant Peterson, Jack Mower; Private 
Abbott, Anderson Lawlor; Private Murphy, John 



tn^e^un a 


Copyright 1937, Phoenix Hosiery Co. 

(I sne mill remember ijonlonqer 





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On the Cover— Ginger Rogers, Natural Color Photograph by George Hurrell 

Hollywood's Case Against Monogamy Faith Baldwin 17 

A keen analysis on why filmland marriages are short-lived 

I Get In — and Out of — the Movies Louella 0. Parsons 18 

The Romance of Claudette Colbert's Second Honeymoon . . Howard Sharpe 20 

Diamond Pin Money Gilbert Seldes 22 

A noted writer gives away the business dealings of the stars 

Second Chance at Love Kirtley Baskette 24 

Happiness comes again to Virginia Bruce 

The Reformation of Jane Withers Kent Bailey 25 

Ensenada — The Land of Tamales and Tequila Errol Flynn 26 

Young Man About Hollywood takes you to his favorite hideaway 

In the Palm of Your Hand Matilda U. Trotter 28 

First in a series — explaining those mysterious markings on your hand 

Ze Name Eez Spooks Ida Zeitlin 30 

Lily Pons smashes those prima donna' legends 

Hollywood, Hunter — and the High Seas Margaret Chute 32 

A cottage by the sea changed life for the\lan Hunters 

Hi, Georgie — The Life Story of a Mystery Man . . . Edward Churchill 68 
Final installment — George Raft's life story 

The Camera Speaks: — 

Shirley Kneads the Dough 34 

You're a Sweetheart 36 

Know Hollywood 38 

Then — and Now 42 

Home Is Where the Heart Is 44 

Rosalie 46 

Boos and Bouquets 4 

Brief Reviews of Current Pictures 6 

Informal Hostess Molly Castle 8 

Close Ups and Long Shots 13 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 49 

We Cover the Studios James Reid 52 

The Shadow Stage 54 

Fashion Letter Gwenn Walters 67 

PHOTOPLAY'S Own Beauty Shop Carolyn Van Wyck 70 

Choose the Best Picture of 1937 71 

Complete Casts of Pictures Reviewed in This Issue . . „ . . • • 97 

VOL LII., No. 2, FEBRUARY, 1938 

Published Monthly by Macfadden Publications, Inc., 333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 111. • Bernarr Macfadden, President • Irene T. Kennedy, 
Treasurer • Wesley F. Pape, Secretary • General Offices, 205 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y. • Editorial and Advertising Offices, Chanin 
Building, 122 East 42nd St., New York, N. Y., Curtis Harrison, Advertising Manager • Charles H. Shattuck, Manager, Chicago Office • London Agents, 
Macfadden Magazines, Ltd., 30 Bouverie St., London, E. C. 4 • Trade Distributors Atlas Publishing Company, 18, Bride Lane, London, E. C. 4 • Yearly 
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for any losses of such matter. Entered as second-class matter April 24, 1912, at the post office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879, Copyright, 
1938, by Macfadden Publications, Inc 










Discouraged, ready to return to New 
York, Marjorie Weaver was cast in "Sec- 
ond Honeymoon" with Tyrone Power and 
Loretta Young. Voila! She becomes — 
Photoplay's discovery of the month 



i \ 

perfection, thereby squelching all my 
previous prejudices against costume 
films. The freshness of the dialogue gave me 
the exhilarating feeling that every member 
of the cast, from housewife to hero, was 
thoroughly enjoying the part he or she 
played. The choice of settings was pictur- 
esque and atmospheric and the photography 
was so dramatically handled that it intrigued 
me into seeing the film a second time. 

How about Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.? No 
unpleasant dull menace he, but a delightful 
villain, unpredictable and unforgettable. 
Ronald Colman remained the infallible, by 
giving his character the usual dash and grace 
of the Colman touch. And the dueling 
scene! An amazing piece of business. Sharp 
steel, keen grace and keener wits — no ordi- 
nary sword-clanging this. But rather a sym- 
bolic sequence that interpreted all the gla- 
mour of court intrigue and royal romance. 
Mrs. Clarence Hopper, 

Gardenville, N. Y. 

A good consistent actress — that was 
Frances Dee's reputation. But what she 
gives to her role in "Wells Fargo" is a 
superb characterization that we call — 
the surprise performance of the month 



Which is my favorite movie star? 

Well, I'll let you guess. Her step is de- 
mure, her eyes amused and a. little mock- 
ing. If she spoke, a husky charming voice 
would probably say "Pull-ease!" 

"I want to look like her," sighs Miss 

"And I want to marry her," echoes Mr. 

Her nose is pert, her smile is quizzical, her 
hair is red. She is delightful, delicious and 

"For public's pride and critic's joy," says 
Ogden Nash, "Is any film where boy meets 

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you — Myrna 
Loy! Irene M. Wilke, 

Lakewood, Ohio. 

Miss Loy's most recent advice to American 
wives — whose perfect screen example she is 
— was "Keep your chin up and your hair 
waved. A wife must not allow herself to 
doubt her own powers of attraction." 

other t 



Katharine Hepburn has been accused of 
being a tempestuous show-off, incapable of 
turning out really fine acting. 

Ginger Rogers has been accused of being 
just a song-and-dance girl, dependent upon 
Fred Astaire for much of her success. 

In "Stage Door," the Misses Hepburn and 
Rogers set out to prove the absurdity of these 
charges, and, boy, how they do it! Hepburn 
incapable of fine acting? Her "Stage Door" 
performance dashes to earth that silly rumor. 
Her work has taken on a fine humanness, a 
richness and poignancy that reach a climax 
in her speech to the audience on opening 

And Ginger! The lesser half of the 
Astaire-Rogers team, forsooth! Ginger does 
a spot of dancing, to be sure, but it is her 
capable acting, not her dancing, about which 
one thinks after seeing "Stage Door." Gin- 
ger is a real solo star, dependent upon no 
(Continued on page 86) 

C. Aubrey Smith, who portrays the 
role of Father Paul, the priest who 
aided the sweethearts to escape. 

MaryAstor, at her brilliant dramatic 
best, as the compassionate wife of 
the Governor of Manukura Island. 

Raymond Massey, as the relentless 
Governor, who pursued Terang 
and M arama to their secret refuge 

Samuel Goldwyn has endowed "THE HURRICANE" with a magnificent cast including 
Dorothy Lamour, Jon Hall, Mary Astor, C. Aubrey Smith, Thomas Mitchell, Raymond 
Massey, John Carradine, Jerome Cowan ..and Mamo Clark, the Hawaiian beauty who 
played Clark Gable's sweetheart in "Mutiny on the Bounty". ..Movita Castaneda, the 
beautiful young Mexican, who played Franchot Tone's sweetheart in the same picture .. 
and Reri, the Tahitian who starred in "Tabu" . Directed byjohn Ford ,who won the Academy 
Award for "The Informer". Screenplay by Dudley Nichols. Released thru United Artists 

In "THE HURRICANE", Charles Nordhoff 
and James Hall, authors of "Mutiny on the 
unty", have created a vivid, stirring tale of 
e and adventure in the South Seas— and from 
it, Samuel Goldwyn— after expending an almost 
unbelievable fortune and two years of effort— 
has^produced a motion picture that takes high 
rank with the screen's most brilliant offerings. 

Consult This Movie Shopping Guide and Suve Your Time. Money and Disposition 



A breezy edition of the Torchy Blane series with forthright 
Glenda Farrell as a newspaper gal out to get her man in the person 
of Barton MacLane, a busy, bustling police lieutenant. Anne 
Nagel and Bill Hopper join the chase. If you like adventurous 
comic strips. (Nov.) 

• ALI BABA GOES TO TOWN-20th Century-Fox 

A pointed satire on the present Administration, this is a rollick- 
ing well-staged, and very funny piece if you have a sense of humor. 
Falling asleep, Eddie Cantor dreams of ancient Bagdad, which is in 
dreadful shape. He suggests to Sultan Roland Young a few New 
Dealish measures which might be taken. Thereupon the film be- 
comes a frantic and magnificently impossible hash. You'll like 
Tony Martin, Raymond Scott's band, June Lang and all the songs 


Olsen and Johnson fans will love this bit of bright hysteria 
wrapped around two "angels" who back a Broadway show, fin! 
themselves with a murder mystery on their hands. Franklin 
Pangborn is a panic as a swish designer. (Nov.) 

• ANGEL— Paramount 

The languid Miss Dietrich in a velvety mixture of romance and 
European politics surrounded by Lubitsch's direction, sparkling 
dialogue, perfect photography and a splendid supporting cast 
Herbert Marshall is the preoccupied husband, Melvyn Dougla= 
rounds out the triangle. Better not miss it. (Nov.) 


Here is a worthwhile, simply presented story of rival middies a'. 
the Naval Academy. James Ellison and Van Heflin are in love with 
Marsha Hunt whose father objects to her marrying. When 
scandal rears its ugly head, the rivals become friends. The back- 
ground is refreshingly authentic, as the scenes were actually taken 
at Annapolis. (Nov.) 


Outside of the fact that this allows Young America a good look at 
Captain Dick Merrill, famed crack pilot, this dull story has little to 
offer. Paula Stone is giddily inept as the heiress-aviatrix who uses 
Dick's ability to save the life of VVeldon Heyburn. Captain Merrill 
himself does a swell job. (Dec.) 

• AWFUL TRUTH, THE-Columbia 

The happy combination of Irene Dunne and Cary Grant, plus a 
delightfully gay and romantic story, make this one of the best 
pictures this year. Married, very much in love, but stubborn, they 
find divorce rearing its ugly head, but finally solve their domestic 
relations in a merry, mad and very modern way. Irene and Grant 
are delicious, Ralph Bellamy and the supporting cast equally 
splendid. A command performance. (Dec.) 




BIG TOWN GIRL— 20th Century-Fox .... 56 
BOY OF THE STREETS— Monogram . .96 

GOLDWYN FOLLIES— Sam Goldwyn-United Artists 55 


HITTING A NEW HIGH— RKO-Radio .... 54 



NOTHING SACRED— Selznick-United Artists . 55 



SH! THE OCTUPUS— Warners 56 


Disney-RKO-Radio 55 

STORM IN A TEACUP-Korda-United Artists 56 

SUBMARINE D-1-Warners 54 

THANK YOU, MR. MOTO-20th Century-Fox 96 


TOVARICH— Warners 55 

WELLS FARGO— Paramount 54 



A better than usual newspaper yarn dealing with the part 
journalists play in railroading innocent persons to death. Joan 
Blondell is remarkably good as the lady of the press, Pat O'Brien 
is her editor and Margaret Lindsay is the unfortunate victim of 
their go-getting zeal for sensationalism. (Nov.) 


"Bad Guy" equals bad picture. Bruce Cabot plays the unholy 
fellow who gets into scrape after scrape, finally comes to grief. 
Edward Norris is the good boy who reaps his reward in the love of 
Virginia Grey. Don't give it another thought. (Nov.) 

• BARRIER, THE-Paramount 

Rex Beach's story of men who went to Alaska during the gold 
rush to escape sins committed in the States, and of the romances 
which flourished in the wilderness, retains considerable interest in 
this latest screening. Jean Parker is the supposed half-breed who 
marries army lieutenant James Ellison. Leo Carrillo steals the show 
as Polleon, the trapper. (Jan.) 


Rough and ready drama of the taxi war in New York, combined 
with an immigrant girl's problems in a new world, tangles Spencer 
Tracy and Luise Rainer jn many romantic though exaggerated 
situations. Tracy is a bit ponderous, Luise a bit coy, but it's a 
clever production and there is a fine supporting cast. (Nov.) 

BORROWING TROUBLE— 20th Century-Fox 

The familiar Jones family's homely tribulations this time involve 
the adoption of a wayward boy who is promptly suspected of rob- 
bing the Jones drugstore. This is like sugar-candy hearts with 
mottoes on them. (Jan.) 


Barbara Stanwyck, leaving her tears behind her, emerges as a 
smartly dressed, gay and dominant Texan who works wonders with 
playboy Herbert Marshall's life, home and Wall Street business. 
Eric Blore plays assistant to Cupid, Donald Meek is a justice of the 
peace, and Glenda Farrell is a gold-digging show girl. You'll like 
it. (Dec.) 


A lively comedy with a novel triangle idea, this has Anne Nagel 
marrying Warren Hull to spite Henry Mollison who forgot to show 
up at the altar. Then Mollison joins Anne and Warren on their 
honeymoon. It's light and frothy. (Dec.) 


In a Viennese version of the Cinderella tale, Joan Crawford im- 
personates a cabaret girl chosen by an impish count to pose as a 
(Continued on page 94) 

9ttbv& 1,000 AR TISTS 
THREE YEARS firHudv itf 


The most anticipated picture in 20 years will be the show sensation of 
1938 — and for years to come!.. The most amazing advance in screen 
entertainment since the advent of sound ! . . You'll gasp, marvel, cheer 
at its wonders as you thrill to an experience youVe never lived through 
before!.. Without a human actor, it's more human than all the dramas 
that ever came out of Hollywood! . . Power to make you laugh, cry, throb 
with excitement! . . Music to fill your soul — 8 big songs, several as good as 
"The Big Bad Wolf"!. .Romance, adventure, mystery, pathos, tragedy, 
laughter and beauty such as you must actually see and feel to believe! . . 
Truly the miracle in motion pictures — the new wonder of the world ! 


first full-length 

and the 

Seven Dwarfs 

in the marvelous 


Distributed by RKO RADIO PICTURES, Inc. 

J-ke atLAtte^A or tkc new gr-roitAe or ^r-rotnbL 

ow la no 

til TTelil-CitAflLOll cfLti 


A YOUNG man and a girl stood look- 
ing down on a small, secluded valley 
The valley was white with wild lilac 
Tall spears of yucca cut through the lilac 
bushes, shaking their delicate bells clear of 
the thick underbrush. In the distance the 
tree-covered hills folded one inside the other 
like a misty pack of cards. 

"It seems more beautiful every year, our 
little valley," said the girl. 

"I must have painted half a dozen springs 
here already," mused her brother, "but every 
year when the lilacs bloom I want to paint it 

The young man set up his easel and started 
to sketch. The girl wandered off down a 
little dirt track, dreaming dreams. 

b OME years later a famous film star and her 
brand-new husband went looking for a site 
on which to build their home. After a while 
they came to this same Hidden Valley, newly 
opened for building. It was midsummer and 
the hills had lost some of their greenness, the 
lilac had faded, and on the yuccas there 
were only black seed husks. Nevertheless, 
the valley was beautiful. 

"This is the place for us," said Arthur 
Hornblow, decisively. 

"Why, I've been here before," discovered 
Mrs. Hornblow. (She is known to a few mil- 
lion people as Myrna Loy.) 

So then and there the Hornblows started 
to plan their home. 

It took time to build the house. For one 
thing, it had foundations, which also matched 
up to the life that was to be lived in it. And 
while the house grew up, the garden grew 
round it. The tangle of brambles which had 
wandered over the little stream was cut 
down. Lime trees that were planted gave 
their name to the house. A vegetable garden 
was started with a corner for herbs. 

"We'll have tarragon," said Mrs. Hornblow. 
"It's so good in salads. And rosemary and 
thyme and sage and bay for stews." 

Some time, many years before, a Spanish 
farmer must have lived in the valley. It must 
have been he who planted the eucalyptus 
trees. There were old grapevines, too, and 
fruit trees, which had survived years of neg- 
lect. The Hornblows planted many other trees ; 
olives to blend in with the hillside, willows to 
weep over the stream, peppers to dance in 
the sunshine; and a row of poplars to hide 
from view another house which had made a 
mushroom growth at the end of their garden. 

They built, too, a swimming pool, curved 
and irregular like a small natural lake. "I 
hate those tiled swimming pools," Myrna told 
the architect. "They look like a bathtub." 

They also had an outdoor grill, so that they 
could broil thick steaks over mahogany char- 
coal, the way it should be done. 

I HE architect went over the house with 
them once more. The Hornblows' bedroom 
was not. a large room: there was just space 

in it for a bed and maybe an armchair. 
Though, at one side of it, there were well- 
fitted dressing rooms for each of them. 
"There isn't a room in the house which you 
can deck out with taffeta and cushions," said 
the architect regretfully. 

"But then I'm not a taffeta cushion sort of 
a girl," said Myrna. 

Meanwhile, during the house-building 
process, they lived an informal sort of life 
down at the beach. Because, at the studio, 
Myrna is entirely surrounded by hired help 
and because Mr. Hornblow, being a Big 
Producer for Paramount, is also subject tr» 
a certain clutter around his office, they had 
a lot of fun down at the beach being just by 
themselves. It didn't happen always, not 
even very often; say every other Sunday af- 

I NOW Arthur Hornblow knows good food. 
But he didn't know much about the prac- 
tical side of cooking until he started to dab- 
ble around with a cookbook of all nations. 
Delving through its 800 odd pages (you 
should see the page marked Eastern Asia: 
very odd indeed) he discovered a neat trick 
with kidneys. 

One evening Myrna heard loud protests 
from the kitchen — and there was Arthur 
burning his fingers. He'd made a good start, 
removing the fat and skin from six lamb kid- 
neys and had cut them up into thin slices. 
He'd melted butter in a frying pan and put 
in the slices of kidneys, a bay leaf and salt 
and pepper. It was then that the fun began 

He'd tried tasting with a metal spoon, left 
the spoon in the pan, burned his fingers re- 
moving it. He'd tried shaking the pan over 
the flame, too, which the book said was nec- 
essary, burned himself again, on the handle. 

After that Myrna hovered around protec- 
tively like a trained nurse at an operation, 
handing out tools, doing the more unspectac- 
ular jobs, and giving every evidence of 
counting the implements afterwards to see if 
any had been left inside the kidneys. 

When Mr. Hornblow had got himself a pan 
holder, shaken the kidneys for eight or ten 
minutes over a hot flame, sprinkled them 
with flour and stirred it in well, he added 
most of a bottle of white wine (you know 
how extravagant male cooks can be) , put 
the whole lot back on the fire and stirred 
long enough to make the dish very hot. 

EVENTUALLY the house was finished. 
The red bricks outside were painted white. 
Bamboo furniture was put out on the ter- 
race and covered with emerald-green canvas 

The idea of the dining room is provincial 
farmhouse: French, mostly. That's why the 
shelves are filled with old hand-painted pot- 
tery, the buttercup yellow rug and drapes 
hand-woven, and the armchairs (there are 
eight of them and they never need more) 
covered with a small-patterned, quilted 
chintz made from material used in the aprons 
of Breton peasant women. Each chair has a 
different pattern. 

French Provincial or not, one of the first 
dinners the Hornblows gave in their dining 
room was Russian: that is to say, two im- 
portant courses were Russian, the borsch 
soup and the lamb shasslik. 

The salad which followed the meat* was 
American, except for its French dressing and 
its Swiss cheese accompaniment. 

The dessert, crepes Suzette, was French, 

Still, the dinner was Russian in essence — 
partly in honor of two of the guests who had 
just returned from the Soviet Union. This 
was convenient of them because at the time 
the Hornblows had not only a Russian butler 
but also a Russian cook. 

The cook was named Serge, pronounced as 
if he were a gentleman named Gay who had 
been knighted. He kept bobbing in in his 
white coat to find out what the guests 
thought of his cooking and the Siberian rail- 

way. He'd worked on both, whereas they'd 
merely been passengers on one. 

The shasslik was made from small rounds 
of lamb cut from the thick part of the loin. 
These had been marinated overnight in half 
and half red wine and salt water, in which 
there soaked a generous bunch of fresh gar- 
den herbs. Then he had stuck the meat on 
a skewer, with alternating slices of onion, 
and broiled it. The real way to make shas- 
slik is on a revolving spit, said Serge, which 
no modern kitchen has. 

But finally, perhaps to prove that the din- 
ing room really was French, it was the crepes 
Suzette which made the party. To be any 
good, crepes Suzette must be made in the 
dining room after the servants have gone 
back into the kitchen and shut themselves in, 
said Arthur Hornblow. They need a certain 
mood, and this mood is apt to be disturbed 
if the cook is still hovering around protec- 
tively, or is apt to burst in any minute. Nor 
is it any use to order the cook to make them. 
At best they will turn out to be ordinary 
pancakes, and at the worst you may have to 
dispose of them secretly, burying them in 
the garden or feeding them to the dog. 

/ARTHUR made the crepes Suzette with 
all the right kind of flourish. Myrna, the 
good wife that she is, didn't even tell of the 
hard work she had put in in the kitchen, be- 
fore dinner, collecting the ingredients. 

There is, though, not much hardship at- 
tached to working in the Hornblow kitchen, 
which has bright Dutch-blue linoleum on the 
floor and an electric stove dyed to match. 

Arthur began, as you should, with the 
sauce. He ground three lumps of sugar 
against an orange, one against a lemon, 
strenuously. It was strenuous, too, after a 
long day at the studio. He cracked them up 
and put them in a small pan and added a 
chunk of butter, a small measure of Coin- 
treau, another small one of curacao. The 
sugar had to melt slowly into the liquid so 
that it wouldn't burn or stick to the pan. 

Myrna made the batter. She put 2 cups 
of flour, 2 tablespoonfuls of sugar and a 
pinch of salt into a deep bowl, dropped 5 eggs 
in, one at a time, mixing them into the flour 
carefully and smoothly with a wooden spoon. 
Melting 3 tablespoonfuls of butter and add- 
ing it gradually to 1 cup of milk, she beat 
this well into the flour mixture. 

This batter was especially made before 

dinner so that it could stand at least an hour. 

She added to her collection a bottle of 
cognac, a couple of small pans well wiped 
with butter, a portable electric stove and a 
metal dish to go on it. All had been made 
ready to appear in public at the end of the 
dinner, when everyone was feeling mellow. 

At this point, with just the right amount 
of formality, Arthur warmed the first but- 
tered pan on a low heat, poured in a little 
of the batter so that it barely covered the 
bottom of the pan, tipping the pan from side 
to side so that there was a thin and even 
layer all over the pan, and then cooked the 
batter very slowly. When it grew dry and a 
little bubbly on the topside, the underneath 
was then a golden brown and ready for turn- 
ing — ^accomplished gingerly with a pallette 
knife, or by tossing with a brave flick of the 
wrist. When the other side was also golden 
brown, the crepe was stacked on a warm 
plate, the second buttered pan used in the 
same way. Meanwhile, Myrna was butter- 
ing the first pan over again. 

By the time there was a goodish stack of 
pancakes it was necessary to heat the metal 
dish and pour the sauce into it. Then Arthur 
twisted the crepe around in the sauce, moved 
each one to the side, and so on until all the 
crepes were in the dish. He then sifted 
sugar on them and poured a little cognac 
over the lot. He waited until it was heated 
and then set fire. The best taste, he said, 
was obtained by letting the cognac burn it- 
self out. 

After that, coffee and conversation. 

"It is a pity," regretted Arthur Hornblow, 
"that we can't have cafe diable. But it 
doesn't go with crepes Suzette. Come again 
another night and I'll make you some." 

"There is a man who likes to play with 
fire," teased his wife. "Except, of course, 
when he burns his fingers!" 

N.B. There are probably more ways of cook- 
ing borsch than any other dish. Serge, the 
Hornblows' cook, has two ways: a party 
borsch which is very special, and one just for 
every day. If yon would like to know how 
to prepare either or both of them, or if you 
woidd like Myrna hoys recipe for bouilla- 
baisse, hot lobster, or cafe diable, write to 
Molly Castle, in care of PHOTOPLAY mag- 
azine, 7751 Sunset Boidevard, Hollywood, 
Cal., stating your request and accompanying 
it with a self -addressed stamped envelope. 

The master of the white brick home in Hidden Valley likes to play with fire, and dinner guests profit by his habit 

Screen play by Jerry Wald, Maurice Leo and Richard Macauley • Original Story by Jerry Wald 






WARNER BROS, present 

»•• *»••«•*« ft I 


enda FARRELKola LANE -Johnnie DAVIS -Alan MOWBRAY 

and Direct from the Orchid Room of the Air 






Directed by ^\ *^Z 

.4 BUSBY BERKELEY ^; jfc&i 

v ^- \ . 

irice Leo • Music and Lyrics by Dick Whiting and Johnny Mercer • A First National Picture 





<* > v « ***** 

/ h^> 









WELL back behind the scenes in Hol- 
lywood there has long been a most 
important man whose name you 
have probably never heard . . . Eddie Mannix 
... a modest, hard-working Irishman of very 
great ability. . . . 

When a few weeks ago his wife was in- 
stantly killed in an automobile accident Hol- 
lywood insiders began murmuring all over 
again about the curse that seems to have fal- 
len on M - G - M in the sixteen months 
that have passed since Irving Thalberg's 
death. . . . 

For it was Mannix who in the last few 
months had been whispered as the man who 
could most help Metro . . . and now this 
crushing blow falls which must inevitably 
keep him saddened and retarded for many 
months to come. . . . 

What has been happening to Metro lately 
is symptomatic of what has been going on in 
the entire movie business . . . yet people be- 
lieve that had Thalberg lived all the turmoil 
... all the output of expensive bad pictures 
. . . might have been avoided ... at least 
by Leo the Lion. . . . 

I HE truth is that pictures today are costing 
too much . . . that you and I . . . the pub- 
lic. . . have been educated to get too much 
for our money . . . that there is too much 
overhead expense anyhow and not enough 
amusement. . . . 

A year ago theater attendance was so good 
. . . we went so gladly to see almost any- 
thing . . . that box-office figures were fan- 
tastic . . . producers began pouring gold 
into productions . . . the million-dollar pic- 
ture ceased to be anything remarkable and 
was surpassed by the two-million-dollar af- 
fair . . . and that in turn — as witness "Con- 
quest" — was overlooked for the three-mil- 
lion-dollar product . . . and along about this 
time we, the public, stopped liking every- 
thing we saw . . . we became in fact as 
choosey as all get out . . . very good pic- 
tures are still making money but big expen- 
sive bad pictures are being left to die. . . . 

And the reason that one big flop after the 
other has been put out to us is that inside the 
movie firms politics have been going on . . . 
the creators who should have had their minds 
on their work have been preoccupied with 
the need for saving their jobs. . . . 

Metro . . . Paramount . . . Universal . . . 
RKO-Radio . . . Columbia ... all have been 
involved in the most violent internal quarrels 
. . . the United Artists faction has been 
busy trying to find out if Selznick would go 
with Metro and Goldwyn with Korda . . . 
Harry Cohn has been battling with his great- 
est director, Frank Capra ... the actors 
have a guild ... the directors have a guild 
. . . the writers have a guild . . . and what 
those guilds have wanted to do generally has 
been quite different from what the produc- 
ers have wanted done. . . . 

An agreeable guy like Gable who up to 
date has always played in whatever was 
given him got badly frightened by "Parnell" 
(and certainly no one could blame him) and 
now refuses to act until he gets just the role 
he believes is suited to him. . . . 

Bill Powell is holding up signing until he 
is sure of the type of picture he will get . . . 





mt/r * 



Miss Waterbury says — knowing the 
brickbats she's letting herself in for 
— that she believes she has an an- 
swer to avoiding some of the dis- 
tracting elements producers face 

Fred Astaire wanted to try it without Ginger 
Rogers and did, and the box-office results on 
"Damsel in Distress" are not too forte . . . 
the whole of these distracting elements add- 
ing up to impossible confusion. . . . 

v_/F course I believe in my own simple 
dumb way that I know a means by which 
much of this could be avoided ... or in 
other words I am now doing what is ele- 
gantly known as sticking my neck out. . . . 

A few weeks ago Sam Goldwyn was nice 
enough to run off some four reels of his 
forthcoming "Goldwyn Follies" for me, and I 
will flatly go on record here as saying that it 
is far and away the best musical-comedy ma- 
terial I have ever seen. . . . 

It has beauty and charm and originality 
and marvelous comedy . . . the ballet, photo- 
graphed in the most dramatic use of color yet 
to reach the screen, is the most thrilling sight 
since the first time you beheld Sonja Henie 
in action . . . Charlie McCarthy will capti- 
vate you completely ... it all has that final 
essence of chic and showmanship that Gold- 
wyn always manages . . . but . . . and there 
is a big catch in all this, too big a one, I feel 
. . . the "Follies" cost more than two million 
dollars to produce. . . . 


I do not for a moment doubt that the "Gold- 
wyn Follies" will bring back three times that 
amount ... it will forever more make it dif- 
ficult for any other musical film to surpass 
its box-office receipts . . . but just the same 
that is too much to invest in a single picture 
. . . that is literally giving us too much for 
our money when you consider that in a good 
many theaters those selfsame two-million- 
dollar "Follies" will play on a double bill 
with some other producer's million-dollar 
production. . . . 

/\ND another little item I'll never under- 
stand is why Hollywood overlooks its West- 
erns the way it does . . . with "B" pictures 
(those "and also" productions you find on 
your theater programs) costing today be- 
tween $250,000 and $400,000 . . . and after 
all "B's" are only imitation "A's" and like 
all imitations pretty weak . . . the best 
Westerns which are a distinctive form of en- 
tertainment are still costing at most $75,000 
each . . . and a majority of these cost even 
less . . . their box-office value has been 
proven since the very first year of picture 
making. . . . 

That saucy little Republic is backing its 
whole success on the money that Gene Au- 
try is earning for them in musical Westerns 
. . . and on that success climbing very 
steadily up in the world . . . whenever 
Westerns have had the benefit of the writ- 
ing and production brains that are lavished 
on the sex dramas ... as witnessed "The 
Covered Wagon" and "Cimarron" and more 
recently, "The Plainsman" . . . they have 
made the most outstanding success . . . the 
figures are right there on the books for the 
entire industry to read and yet for some 
goofy reason the producers continue to over- 
look them . . . while the money that must 
have gone into a production such as "Blos- 
soms on Broadway" ... is staggering to 
contemplate. . . . 

It isn't so much that I disapprove of our 
getting all we can for our cash at the box 
office . . . that always has been the way of 
commerce . . . but there is such a thing as 
so much icing on the cake that you get sick 
of the entire dish. . . . 

I HE motion-picture producers have the ex- 
ample of the Broadway stage by which they 
could profit if they only would . . . the great 
musical-comedy producers, the Ziegfelds and 
the Dillinghams did just this same trick . . . 
they put forth shows so opulent that even 
with the greatest public response they 
couldn't afford to keep them running . . . 
with the result that they put themselves out 
of business and killed musical revues in the 
legitimate theater. . . . 

So here is my argument . . . please give 
us simpler and better pictures . . . people 
like caviar for parties but for daily fare they 
stick much more to beefsteak and potatoes 
for dinner and ham sandwiches for lunch 
. . . not fancy but just plain enjoyable. . . . 

Hollywood with its unbelievable money 
. . . with its pursuit of glamour ... its pre- 
occupation with sex . . . rather naturally 
forgets how simple in our tastes the rest of us 
are . . . for some reason hard to understand 
it will overlook the success of the Jones 
Family and Charlie Chan and the Jane 
Withers pictures and never figure out why 
they are so popular . . . and concentrate to 
its own loss on a very expensive star like 

Pictures like "The Jones Family" prove one of Miss Waterbury's arguments 

Dietrich in fabulously costly productions that 
have no following at all. . . . 

IF I sound a bit gloomy on this I really do 
not mean to . . . the experimental group is 
coming up and getting constantly stronger. 
. . . Frances Marion, the writer, has gone to 
Metro as a producer and is intent upon get- 
ting American history on the screen in terms 
of entertainment . . . her first production 
will be a picturization of Kenneth Roberts' 
fine story, "Northwest Passage" . . . Frank 
Lloyd this month has turned out a very great 
re-enactment of our history in "Wells Fargo" 
. . . Disney has launched his elaborate ex- 
periment "Snow White" for the first full- 
length cartoon feature. . . . 

David Selznick, the mighty, has been 
signed by Metro ... I doubt that any amount 
of politics or pressure will ever keep him 
from being original ... so, too, has Mervyn 
Le Roy ... I don't mean to indicate that 
Metro is grabbing all the production brains, 
though with the addition of these two stal- 
warts they have a good start at it . . . 
Mervyn did some vGry fine things at Warners 
. . . daring things like "They Won't Forget" 
... he is a man of quick, worldly talent, of 
charm and keen intelligence, and it will be 
interesting to watch him . . . Warners who 
have always possessed the best ability to get 
out inexpensive compelling pictures (take a 
picture like "Slim," for example, which I en- 
joyed as much as any I've seen all season 
though it has almost no money in it at all) 
are now giving more attention to their spe- 
cial productions, encouraged possibly by the 
success of their great "Zola" ... to be able 
to compete with the colossal efforts of Para- 
mount and Metro ... all these things are 
working to make pictures better. . . . 

Still and all, the chaos of the motion-picture 
business today is a fact . . . my favorite 

crack of the season was published in my 
friend Irving Hoffman's column in "The 
Hollywood Reporter" and credited to Jack 
White, the entertainer whom Walter Wanger 
hired for "52nd Street." Said Mr. White, 
"So much of my stuff is on the cutting-room 
floor that the only fan mail I expect to get 
will probably be from the mice" . . . take 
that and the story of the smart critic who 
asked how anybody expected Jon Hall (he 
pronounces it John) to give a good per- 
formance if he wasn't even able to spell his 
own name. . . . 

Behind such cracks there is a lot of truth 
. . . about the extravagance and the over- 
shooting and the miscalculation. . . . 

And also behind it all is the influence of 
Hollywood on the world ... I know that the 
garment trade in New York is now seriously 
watching Hollywood's effect on sports clothes 
. . . that hundreds of little girls all over the 
world now want long hair since Miss Temple 
has put back her curls . . . that Hollywood's 
insistence on modern furnishings in settings 
for its drama is making the "second" set of 
furniture purchased by housewives today go 
toward modern lines, particularly in bed- 
room suites. . . . 

To my mind the answer to the whole thing 
is for the producers to get back to simplicity 
. . . for their own sakes and ours ... to 
give us, straightforwardly and without elab- 
orateness, the dramatic stories of love and 
faith and home . . . those eternal problems 
in which we are forever interested. . . . 

I O do that, of course, they will have to 
understand themselves . . . and us, too . . . 
and that was where Irving Thalberg's great- 
ness came in ... he loved people and un- 
derstood them . . . and that great gift he 
translated to the screen in terms of our happi- 
ness . . . and his success. . . . 

GENTLEMEN obviously prefer... 


a * °r. n ~ l qWE 


WAtTE R ^ oLA N 

CH£ S 1V^ 0M0 

by* 08 ...Mion 

ee n t- ,ay ,_„ pro 

, i"-; **. 




\ f ^fest*^ 

'Every Day's a Holiday" all right when you can see 
the one and only Mae West herself in a roaring 
comedy-romance-with-music set in the hale and 
hearty days of New York's Gay 90's — a gala and 

glittering picture featuring the antics of five of the 
greatest screen comics of our time... a picture with the 
dash of Mae's Schiaparelli gowns — it'll have your 
boy-friend in hysterics and you in a gale of giggles. 


Rrigllt idea for after dark-a jacket fashioned of many 
FEDERAL Silver Foxes. Brilliantly silvered on a pure black background 
. . . deep, yet wonderfully light and pliable . . . most nattering of furs. 
A bright idea for daytime, too — nothing is smarter over wool frocks and 
suits. Look for the FEDERAL name, sealed to an ear and stamped on 
the leather side of the pelt; it is your assurance of lasting loveliness. 
FEDERAL Silver Foxes are sold in fine stores from coast to coast. 



Why must love and marriage be different 
in Hollywood? Only a brilliant novelist 

could write this daring and candid analysis 




IT has become a fixed idea with the vast 
motion-picture audiences all over the 
world that Hollywood marriages are like 
Hollywood sets — elaborate and short-lived; 
changed as often as a star's mind. When 
a Hollywood star marries for the first time, 
there is always a great to-do about it. "The 
first time? Not really!!" It seems almost 
as if the poor bride or bridegroom had 
broken some strange code in confessing 
that since reaching Hollywood he or she 
decided to enter into the bonds of matri- 
mony for the first time. 

It is true that many of the screen stars 
have been married more than once, and it 
will continue to be true, I suppose, as long 
as there are screen stars. 

It is equally true that the ladies and 
gentlemen of our social register and of what 
Cholly Knickerbocker has named Cafe 
Society are equally apt to change husbands 
and wives with the climate and modes, but 
they are more or less scattered about the 
globe — New York, London, Paris, the 
Riviera, Chicago, Philadelphia, Baltimore 
— while the stars are concentrated under 
the fierce white arc light of publicity in a 
little place called Hollywood, which hasn't 
a post office, I understand, and is merely a 
state of mind — and part of Los Angeles. 

It would be, I think, interesting to inquire why the stars 
marry so often, and there are, I believe, any number of rea- 
sons. In these very reasons you will find Hollywood's case 
against monogamy — a case built up by the peculiar prob- 
lems of Hollywood people. 

Take some of the girls, for instance — the majority of them 
come to Hollywood very young; some have had stage expe- 
rience, most of them have not. Some have won beauty con- 
tests, or been models, or danced or sung in night clubs. 
Some have had practically no professional experience. Ex- 
tremely youthful, lovely and talented, they are flung into 
this little exciting artificial world . . . and, when one consid- 
ers the superficiality of Hollywood life, one wonders how 
they keep their heads at all. (Continued on page 88) 

Fantasy: Dick Powell and 
Rosemary Lane. Reality: 
with wife Joan Blondell 


Clark Gable, the great lover 
of the screen; Allan Jones 
and Joan Crawford — all 
three examples of why 
Hollywood has a definite 
case against monogamy 



. % %uu_». f Att 

Famous film paragrapher finds that a column a 

day and two on Sunday is a rest cure compared 

with the life of a glamour girl in the movies 

A FTER six weeks, four days, seven hours 
/ \ and sixteen minutes (overtime) of 
/ \ being a glamour girl in the movies, it 
is really anticlimactic to find myself back at 
my typewriter, a woiking goil again, as 
though nothing had happened. Now all I 
have to do is write a column a day, a Sun- 
day article or two, and be on the "Hollywood 
Hotel" radio hour — practically a rest cure. 

Maybe I am self-conscious or plain embar- 
rassed but I have a feeling when I meet my 
friends, these days, that they are looking at 
me with a quizzical eye. You really can't 
blame Carole Lombard for greeting me with, 
"Hello, Garbo"; or Claudette Colbert for 
looking at me with amusement and saying, 
"How's the star today?" My own husband, 
if I take a fraction of a second longer to pow- 
der my nose, says, "Oh, you look all right. 
You're not facing the camera now." 

I brought it all on myself, of course. After 
some twenty odd years of praising or pan- 
ning or being just plain indifferent to other 
people's screen performances, I would turn 
actress at my time of life. 

Maybe it's retribution or an avenging fate 
that put me before the all-seeing eye of the 
camera, gowned by Orry Kelly, coiffed by 
Joan St. Oger and made up with a new face 
by Perc Westmore. 

But I claim all this expert attention does 
something to a movie columnist who usually 
works in old pajamas, has to be dug out 
from behind a typewriter and six tele- 
phones, and gets a wave in her hair when 
and if it's possible. 


IT took me a long time to be convinced a 
girl's place was in a studio and not behind 
her typewriter. But Jack Warner and Hal 
Wallis pictured the life of a movie star so 
glowingly, with a dressing room and real 
"jools" to wear in the picture, to say nothing 
of a slight case of salary, I couldn't turn it 
down. Besides, the idea of anyone else's 
trying to play me stirred waves of compas- 
sion in my breast and I felt since Warner 
Brothers were making a motion picture of 
"Hollywood Hotel," the radio program which 
I have hostessed for over three years, it was 
better for me (bad as I probably would be 
as an actress) to play myself along with Ray- 
mond Paige, Frances Langford, Jerry 
Cooper, Ken Niles and our original master 
of ceremonies, Dick Powell, the star of the 

So, on September 20th, in the year of our 
Lord 1937, accompanied by a secretary who 
was scornful of the whole idea, a bottle of 
aspirin and some homemade broth, I tim- 
idly reported for duty on the firing line. 

"You go to Perc Westmore's first for 

make-up," said Bob Fellowes, the good-look- 
ing company manager on "Hollywood Ho- 
tel." And believe me, of that make-up de- 
partment too much cannot be said. Why, it's 
the very key to every actress' and would-be 
actress' fate. There, by a few simple twists 
of the wrist, the plainest face is converted 
into a raving beauty and before you know it 
you find yourself something you just "ain't." 

Word passed around like wildfire that 
Perc was doing Parsons and one by one the 
clan gathered to wish me well — or maybe to 
satisfy a morbid curiosity. Kay Francis, one 
of my dearest friends, looked so-o-o beauti- 
ful in her glamour make-up that it made me 
wish I hadn't come. But when Basil Rath- 
bone breezed in with a Buster Brown bob 
for "Robin Hood," I began to feel maybe 
there was some hope. 

Bette Davis drifted by, a vision in her 
"Jezebel" hoop skirts, while Olivia De Havil- 
land came in for Perc's final okay on her 
Maid Marian make-up. 

But hectic as all these greetings and in- 
terruptions were, and self-conscious as the 

I HURRIED out on the set to report to 
Busby Berkeley, the director, realizing that 
although I had left home at the crack of 
dawn, I was late on the set. The lights were 
already set up and the company was assem- 
bled. Dick Powell, Lola and Rosemary 
Lane, Alan Mowbray, Hugh Herbert, Glenda 
Farrell and Ted Healy were all there, ready 
to start. With all these "column names" ral- 
lied around, I forgot for a moment I was an 
actress and started digging for news. 

Seeing Dick reminded me I'd heard that 
day that Joan Blondell was "expecting," so I 
put the question right up to the prospective 
father — who promptly denied it and added, 
"Now look here, Louella, you're here as an 
actress. So put away the notebook." 

seemed little and thin and far away. I be- 
gan to wonder if I was really talking — or if 
Edgar Bergen had sneaked onto the set and 
was doing a Charlie McCarthy for me. 

As usual, they were not shooting the script 
in sequence. One of the first scenes I made 
was with Lola Lane in which we tear into a 
little number portraying a newspaper scribe 
(that's me) and a temperamental movie 
star (Lola) . My introduction in the picture 
came later — with none other than my old 
friend, Ted Healy, as a partner. I was sup- 
posed to meet Ted in an elevator and be- 
cause they probably didn't want to give the 
cameramen, George Barnes and Charles 
Rosher, too much of a shock, the scene was 
shot with my back to the camera. 

I ED was supposed to slap me on the back 
and I was to register surprise. For some 
reason, Ted, whom I have known for many 
a year, suddenly went coy on me and gave 
me a gentle tap. 

"Hit harder," I begged. "I can't be sur- 
prised or annoyed with such a ladylike slap." 

Ted took me at my word and in the next 
take almost knocked the fillings out of my 
teeth. After it was over, he gave me a wor- 

Real "jools" to wear in the picture and 
a slight case of salary were the bribes 
that got Lolly into the movies. But 
after that first scene with Lola Lane 
(left) it was her dressing-room office 
and typewriter that offered solace 

victim in the barber chair was becoming, 
Perc paid no attention and went right on 
with his facial landscaping. 

He stepped back, put his head on one side, 
and looked at me in the critical manner with 
which an entomologist regards a squirming 
new bug. 

"Hmm. The chin could be taken up," he 
said as if talking to himself. "The nose can 
be toned down, the cheeks high-lighted to 
look thinner — but the eyes aren't bad and 
the hair is okay." 

Well, it was a relief that the eyes and hair 
passed the master's scrutiny. Taking up the 
face meant putting tiny plasters of fishskin 
at each temple and pulling up the face by 
means of invisible rubber strings which were 
tied on top of my head. A very "uplifting" 

Then came the transformation. What Perc 
does is amazing — especially to a woman who 
is no longer in her giddy youth. Defects dis- 
appear as if by magic and a new face looks 
out upon you. You hope fervently that the 
camera will see as much difference as you do. 

Thinking back on the experience now, I 
don't have a very clear recollection of my 
reactions to the first scenes we made — I was 
too numb. There's a terror that grips your 
heart about this motion-picture work that is 
beyond description; "mike fright," stage 
fright" and every other kind of fright are as 
nothing compared to it. 

Firstly, there is that awful silence that de- 
scends on the entire stage like a fog when 
they call "Camera." 

I was conscious that every eye in the place 
was on me. When I finally heard my voice, it 

ried look and said, 

"There goes my last notice in Parsons' 

Believe it or not, that little scene took all 
morning to shoot and by lunch time I was 
ready to drop in my tracks. Talk about 
movie stars earning their salaries. I think 
they are underpaid. 

When the welcome word "Lunch" was 

called I looked around for an easy chair and 

carpet slippers to rest my weary bones. I 

felt a little hurt that there was no chair with 

(Continued on page 93) 




Exclusive to Photoplay — the story 

of two people who are gambling 

their careers for this first vaca 

tion together away from Hollywood 


THAT distant but piercing shriek you 
hear as you begin reading this is Claud- 
ette Colbert, diving headfirst into a 
snowbank at the foot of the Swiss Alps. 

She should be there by now, if Jack Press- 
man's car didn't get stuck in a ditch some- 
where in the Italian countryside miles from 
any village; or if the colored patch of a small 
inn's garden didn't intrigue them too much 
one afternoon, so that they delayed in the 
sun; or if they didn't decide quite suddenly 
one evening to pause at Venice, and ride a 
gondola among the palazzos. I don't know. 
They may even be sitting in the sands out- 
side of Cairo, making faces at the Sphinx. 

This is both the Pressmans' second honey- 
moon, and behind it lies as romantic and 

gallant a story as ever came out of madcap 

You remember — the many times you've 
lifted hazy eyes slowly from a travel folder, 
transported, on the instant, to a bazaar in 
Hindustan or to the Casino at Monte Carlo; 
you could hear the click of the roulette ball, 
smell the unwashed natives, see the glitter 
of silks and filigrees for sale. You've 
thought: if I had a lot of money — if Junior 
were a little older — if John could get away 
from that office for a while — now, we'd go, 
we'd go now. Now, while we're still young, 
before it's too late. 

Claudette Colbert, motion-picture star, 
also dreamed that dream, even as you and I. 

Ever since she married Jack Pressman a 

little more than two years ago and came 
back from a five-day honeymoon to Yosem- 
ite — which was not enough — she's said, 
"Someday the Pressmans are going to take 
time out from the routine of living and see 
the world together." 

That time has come and the Pressmans are 
setting forth now together, now while they 
are young, and glamorously in love. 

They haven't any doubts about their love; 
nevertheless, this trip involves a risk — and 
they are quite aware of it — to each of their 
careers. It is dangerous for a doctor to leave 
his practice. It is just as dangerous for a 
star to leave her public. But the Pressmans 
are risking that — because their real honey- 
moon is so important to them. 



Claudette had more than the impetus of 
travelogue publicity and her own imagina- 
tion to make her want to travel; seven years 
ago, with Norman Foster who then was her 
husband, she explored the earth in a tramp 
steamer. Outside edges, and the more obvi- 
ous points, and the most apparent humps 
she touched and noticed — enough to make 
her say, "I'll come again, and next time I'll 
skip these places, hesitate in these, live for 
awhile in these." But "next time" was never 
to come for her and Norman. It has come 
for her with another man — and a greater 

While the public shouts its praise 
of Claudette's performance with 
Charles Boyer in Warners' "Tovar- 
ich," the little star, herself, 
jaunts around the world — with 
fingers crossed. There's a reason 

k_LAUDETTE was having her nails done in 
bright coral for a scene when I talked with 
her last, about the trip, and she was out- 
rageously happy. In another three weeks 
"Bluebeard's Eighth Wife" would be finished 
and then she could pack her fourteen trunks 
and fling them and her husband and his 
Packard coupe and herself aboard a train 
and be off, at last. 

This she would do, knowing full well that 
after "Bluebeard" had been released and 
had had its run, she would be away from the 
screen for a period of almost eight months. 

"But it's worth it," she said, waggling her 
glittering fingers to dry the polish. "I've 
worked as long as I can remember. I've had 
a good time doing it, but there has always 
been the feeling that after all — my life was 
before me; that someday I'd take time out 
and have freedom of movement, do all the 
things I'd always wanted to. 

"Most people think the same thing, and 
keep on thinking it, and then when they're 
a hundred and ten they creak off on a trip 
somewhere, watching for draughts, all bun- 
dled up in shawls, luggage packed with 
rheumatism cures, and quite unable to dash 
around to cabarets or to go skiing or tramp 
through a jungle, of course. 

"Well, I'm young now. So's Jack. In an- 
other ten years we'll forget how to be mad 
and impromptu about things. Careers or no 
careers, we'll go now while we can enjoy it." 

Thus when Claudette steps finally aboard 
that streamliner, gives one last shrug for 
Hollywood and its affairs, and reaches for 
her Baedeker, Claudette will have begun not 
only a three months' vacation but a new era 
for herself and for Jack (and she will be 
doing all of that just about as you read these 
lines) . Behind her stretch seven years, dur- 
ing which a life begun on one tangent was 
forced, by circumstances, to shift to another; 
during which she lost one great love and 
pulled a shaky career out of the hot Holly- 
wood fire and found a finer love and a 
greater happiness. 

This, then, is a kind of triumphant cele- 
bration, a laughing salute to that other time 
when she left California with the world be- 
fore her. She remembers it well. 

"The Big Pond," her first starring picture, 
was still showing in the theaters of a nation 
that did not yet know what 1930 would 
bring. America, as a public, was just begin- 
ning to clamor for this new actress named 
Claudette Colbert and her studio, apprecia- 
tive, had promised them Colbert until fur- 
ther notice. 

France liked her, too; so much so that dur- 
ing the six weeks between the time she de- 
cided to go with Norman around the world 
and the date of departure they shot two pic- 
tures — one for the United States, made by 
day, and one in French for foreign markets, 
naade by night. 

Her chauffeur poured her, still in make- 
up, on the steamer just as it was weighing 
anchor; and when she regained conscious- 
ness the wallowing old freight-tramp was far 
out to sea. 

Then, for three months, (until in Cairo 
(Continued on page 92) 

The back-to-the-soil and gain-a-fortune 
bugs hit star Ann Dvorak simultaneously 

Shirley Temple, the minx, can 
drive as shrewd a deal as anyone 


Night and day they worked — all two hundred 
and fifty of Photoplay's spies — gathering 
data for this amusing article on high finances 


A SHORT time ago the script on which 
Shirley Temple was working called 
v for a pony. In Hollywood you can 
get a pony at least as easily as a rhinoceros, 
but the director was in a hurry — and there 
was a pony on the set. Miss Temple's own 
pony. And she let him use her pony — at ten 
cents a day. 

That's a pleasing thing to know and gives 
you a warm feeling about the little girl. 
Older — but not necessarily better — actors 
and actresses earn larger sums in other ways, 
sometimes without showing as much busi- 
ness sense as Miss Temple did. They earn 
their pin money — diamond pin money — in a 
thousand enterprises. There is hardly a busi- 
ness, from canned goods to the prize ring, 
in which some player is not represented. 

In fact, when you see how much money 
they make when they are not working, you 
sometimes wonder why moving-picture stars 
trouble to act at all. This is not an invita- 
tion to any nasty remark that most of them 
can't act. You, and I, and the gentlemen in 
the Income Tax Bureau know that Shirley 
Temple earns about fifteen times as much 
money on by-products as she gets from 
Twentieth Century-Fox and that Bob Burns 
made an additional eighty-five thousand dol- 
lars last year, not because of playing the 
bazooka, but by putting his name on it and 
letting other people sell it. 

Yet, without the movies, little Miss Tem- 
ple might have put her name on the manna 
from heaven, or on the original waters of the 
Fountain of Youth for a face lotion, and she 
would not have received a cent in return. 
And this goes for all the others. 

To put it another way, the stars have to 
stick to the movies in order to have by-prod- 

ucts, even if the by-products make the movie 
salaries look trivial — that is, look trivial to 
them, not to us. 

Any time a star wants to kick about his 
or her movie salary and dares to mention the 
profitable by-products, the producer has an 
excellent argument with which to reply: it 
is that nobody has ever yet given a movie 
contract to a prominent endorser of break- 
fast foods and cosmetics — it all works the 
other way. And the boys and girls who want 
to make pin money out of radio or personal 
appearances or newspaper columns or en- 
dorsements have to stick very close to the 
studios and, what's more, be top figures at 
the box office. 

When they are at the top, the movie stars 
move in the only un-vicious circle in history. 
Like this: the more they get in the movies, 
the more they get on the air; and the more 
they get on the air, the more they get in the 
movies. (Until the bubble bursts and some- 
one else grabs off top place.) 

Right now a radio contract is being held 
up because a star insists that she wants to 
lose money, in order to keep up her prestige. 
Let us call her Miss ABC — so she can't sue 
us if she doesn't get her contract. Miss ABC 
earns five thousand dollars a week at her 
studio. Another actress, Miss XYZ, a rival 
for certain parts they both play very well, 
gets thirty-five hundred dollars. Now Miss 
XYZ has been on the air at three thousand 
dollars a shot. (Not a week, just for one per- 


Those Wupperman boys (better known to you 
as cinemactors Frank and Ralph Morgan) 
take up another sideline that pays and pays 

Virginia-born Randy Scott 
shares a mutual interest with 
all gentlemen of the South 

When socialite Veron 
ried Gary Cooper, she 
band was more than 

ca Balfe mar- 
found her hus- 
just an actor 

Miss ABC, therefore, insists on four thou- 
sand for her appearance. Her business man- 
ager points out that at four thousand dollars 
a show, she will move into a higher income 
tax bracket and her net gain will be about 
fifteen hundred; whereas, if she takes three 
thousand dollars, her net gain will be over 
two thousand dollars per broadcast. 

But Miss ABC is obstinate. She gets more 
at the studios than Miss XYZ, so she'll get 
more on the air — even if she loses by it. 

I HERE is another group of players who 
seems really determined to lose as much of 
their own money as possible. You look 
through the list and you find that Stuart 
Erwin owns a vineyard; Louise Fazenda has 
a walnut grove and an apricot ranch. (These 
movie people seem to have a passionate 
yearning for the soil.) Edmund Lowe owns 
a hothouse and it is said that he has crossed 
a pepper and a tomato, so you can guess 
what the name of the new vegetable is going 
to be. 

It can't be with any great expectation of 
immediate profits that these highly specula- 
tive gardening enterprises are undertaken. 
Even a moving-picture player must know 
that the farmer always is in trouble. The 
spectacle of Ann Dvorak appealing for help 
to the AAA (or one of its successors) be- 
cause her crop of orchids was a failure is 
funny rather than pathetic. 

Half a dozen men, including Gary Cooper, 
(Continued on page 84) 

Out of retirement into the 
limelight came Clara Bow 
and her husband Rex- Be 
from their quiet Nevada 
ranch. For what? For money. 
They greet the Bow pere at 
the new cafe where Clara 
is doing a Texas Guinan 

Bill Fields and Eddie Cantor 
have one great talent in common 

You're wrong if you think the 
Bob Burns' bazooka merely makes 
music — it does much, much more 



Happy? Of course. If you'll forgive Virginia for analyzing Jack Ruben, she'll tell you why 

A kiss on a "dare" started it — this 

romance between Virginia Bruce and 
the man who could make her forget 


THE train crept reluctantly into the Los 
Angeles railroad yards, while two of its 
passengers, in empty silence, stared out 
of the window. One was a gold-haired 
woman, a beautiful woman with soft blue 
eyes and a wistful something about her 
mouth. The other was a trim, intelligent- 
looking man with tan cheeks and an athletic 

Both were weighted by their return to 
reality, after the vaguely sad, apprehensive 

twilight of a perfect holiday. The wheel 
trucks, rattling over switches, beat a dismal 
tattoo; whistles sighed distantly and crossing 
bells swelled and faded. 

The man broke the silence. "I don't want 
it to end like this," he said. "I want to marry 
you, to live with you, to grow old with you, 
to die with you. Will you, Virginia?" 

"Yes," she said. 

The woman was Virginia Bruce. The man, 
J. Walter Ruben, scholar, writer, motion- 
picture director, athlete, and all-around good 

They were married, of course, before this 
story reached you — a regular wedding with 
all the trimmings, with a honeymoon in 
Europe thrown in (weather and Metro-Gold- 
wyn-Mayer permitting) . Plans will have 
been completed for the new house to be set 
on a high bluff overlooking Sunset Boule- 
vard as it winds to the sea — and they'll live 
happily ever after, of course. For that is the 
happiness that has come again to Virginia 
Bruce — the happiness that Hollywood can 
give — and Hollywood can take away. 


Virginia's new happiness came suddenly — 
as suddenly as it had come the first time. It 
came romantically — even more romantically 
than it did the first time — and it was spun of 
silver moonbeams and star dust from a Utah 
mountain sky, of two alone on a remote pic- 
ture location, of loneliness — and loveliness. 

But it came more maturely, more securely, 
more even and firm and sound this time. 

I HE last time I talked to Virginia Bruce 
was a day or two after she had left Jack 
Gilbert. It was in the long drawing room 
of the Toluca Lake home Jack had built for 
Virginia's folks. Outside, their daughter 
Susan Ann, a tanned little mite, played in 
the sun. 

Virginia Bruce was twenty-two then. 
Twenty-two. An age when most girls are 
having themselves a whirl, dancing adoring 
men at the end of their heartstrings. 

That was all over for Virginia. In fact, 
most of it had never happened to her. But 
other things had. At twenty-two she had 
known fame, the exhilaration of a career, 
and a love so fiercely possessive that it swept 
all that aside. 

She had known a tempestuous marriage 
that bewildered her, and motherhood. She 
had known the tragedy of watching the man 
she loved crack up under the weight of his 
own defeated spirit. She had known also the 
empty confusion of separation. 

And so, at twenty-two, she said, "I won't 
get married again — certainly not for five 
years, anyway." She said it and believed it, 
for she couldn't imagine anyone else's ever 
making her forget Jack Gilbert. 

VIRGINIA BRUCE never has regretted her 
marriage with Gilbert, tragic as it was. In- 
deed, she has been profoundly grateful for it. 
It brought her depth and understanding and 
character — and her daughter. In fact, meet- 
ing John Gilbert at a Hollywood party one 
night not long after she had divorced him, 
she made an unusual and self-sacrificial ges- 
ture. She took Gilbert aside and told him 
what he had meant to her. She told him 
how much happiness their baby had brought 
to her and thanked him for the wonderful 
way he had acted about the child. She told 
him, too, of the soft spot she would always 
carry in her heart for him. And she has 
ever since been profoundly thankful that she 
did what she did that night. For two weeks 
later John Gilbert died. 

There was never anyone else in Virginia's 
heart, never anyone who really meant any- 
thing to her so long as Jack lived, although 
their romance was as dead as oak leaves in 

There was a second reason why Virginia 

Bruce shut out a possible marriage from her 

(Continued on page 74) 



J-lie {UtooLem L^/tdd take* a tutu rat the bettet with uukcA tcMttU 


EVERY Sunday a little girl in pious black 
vestments and a holy white collar clam- 
bers into the choir stall of a Hollywood 
church. Raising her bright eyes heavenward 
in angelic countenance she carols of eternal 
glories. There is no doubt about it — she 
makes a very sweet and saintly picture, 
though there is sometimes a minor bulge in 
her robe. That can be laid to a hidden sling- 
shot or a treasured item from her collection 
of bowie knives. 

Jane Ruth Withers wants very badly to be 
good. Jane Ruth is eleven now; coinci- 
dentally she is also eleventh in the hearts of 
her movie-going countrymen. The responsi- 
bility of this standing and the consciousness 
of approaching maturity have troubled her in 
no small measure lately. "Brat" is a horrid 
word to be applied to a budding young lady, 
even though its piquant stamp has done all 
right for Jane, to the tune of making her the 
idol of many millions of people who delight in 
juvenile wickedness. 

Three years ago, when the Atlanta terror 
swept out of the South to spread consterna- 
tion among the ranks of the Mama's Darlings 
cluttering up the casting offices, her tastes 
were frankly — er — outre, I suppose is the 
word for it. "I want a machine gun," de- 
clared Jane Ruth, and she didn't mean may- 

At that time, I risked life and limb to find 
out something about the deadly little devil 
who had dared sneak scenes from Shirley 
Temple in "Bright Eyes." What I found, 
from Jane's own artless self, included this 
list of preferences: blood vows, Chinamen 
with knives, pirates, cops, slot machines, 
gambling ships, horse races, murder pic- 
tures and marbles for keeps. She was rough 
and tough and hard to bluff. 

Today, I must reluctantly report, Jane 
simply and genuinely overflows with the milk 
of human kindness. 

Only most of the time it turns to hot water 
and Jane finds herself in it — up to her neck. 

On the screen, of course, Gentle Jane can 
relax and let nature take its course. Fans 
like her a little — er — boisterous. It's her 
private life that's bothering her. 

Like what happened one day not so 
long ago on a purely social excursion to 
March Field, the big army air base near Los 
Angeles. Among the forty or fifty odd 
juvenile Post population (officers' offspring) 
Jane is something of a heroine. Doubtless the 

commandant thinks he runs the post, but 
doubtless, again, the gang of tykes say what's 
what. At any rate, Jane was officially bidden 
to spend a day looking things over as an hon- 
ored guest of the squadron. 

It was a very nice party. They gave her a 
commission as an honorary sergeant major, 
and she rode with all the kids on the fire 
wagon, to the disgust of the- Fire Sergeant. 
Then someone had a very cute idea. Why 
not put Jane in the radio control booth and 
let her direct maneuvers of the planes when 
they went aloft? 

Why not indeed? Jane herself glowed, 
because it was a wonderful chance to pay 
back her pals, the aviators. She had had so 
much fun; now she would let them have fun 
— fun measured, of course, by her own 
standards. Her heart expanded in altruistic 

"Do something desperate and daring!" 
commanded Jane. 

Now it so happens that acrobatic maneu- 
vers are what Uncle Sam's war birds con- 
sider "desperate and daring." It also hap- 
( Continued on page 81) 


The Army, the Church, and Willie, 
the Withers' cook, each can tes- 
tify to the fact that, today, Jane's 
a small devil with wings — or an 
angel with horns; — not just "Brat" 





Our Young Man About Hollywood 

takes you, for new adventures, to 
this picturesque haven of the stars 

fact that Ensenada is fast becom- 
ing the most popular resort of the 
West Coast, especially among that 
crazy gang of rather pleasant idiots known 
as the "picture people," is the truth. 

Of course, you will always have your lads 
and lassies going to Arrowhead in the moun- 
tains and Palm Springs in the desert, there 
to be photographed and be made much of, 
but we are speaking now of the so-called 
hideaway groups. 

Mexico is thoroughly delightful and the 
people more so. Naturally, that doesn't 
mean the border towns. They are no more 
Mexican than they are typical small towns 
of the United States. It is not until you 
penetrate nearly a hundred miles below the 
border that you find the real, the genuine 
people of Mexico. 

Not long ago Dick Powell and Joan Blon- 
dell were a-wearying of onyx swimming 

pools, crystal goblets and orchid-bedizened 
premieres. They wanted a rest, far from 
photographers flashing light bulbs, far away 
from police escorts. They wanted to be just 

We met at lunch in the studio commissary 
and they asked me if I knew how they could 
manage it. I'd just come back from Ense- 
nada so, of course, that was my answer. 

"Now, wait," said Dick Powell. "Are you 
sure it's safe? I mean bandits — Pancho Villa 
and all that." 

"Mexico safe? Don't be silly! You run a 
bigger chance of being held up in any city 
in the United States than you do down there. 
The Mexicans are quite sensitive about it 
nowadays — so sensitive that one of the few 
crimes calling for capital punishment is any 
form of banditry — and they mean it!" 

"How about kidnaping?" 

"Hasn't been a real case in a dozen years — 
which is more than you can say for Cali- 
fornia!" I answered. "Go on — you'll love it. 
They'll turn the town upside down — and 
when Mexicans really start paying homage 
to the honored guest, it's something to see. 
If you're not careful, they'll start having an 
annual Ricardo Powell Day!" 

00 the Powells took the stars off their dress- 
ing-room doors and packed them in with the 
toothbrushes and cold cream and started for 
a week in Old May'-hico. They were both 
new to the country — and its tongue, and so 
when they saw the big sign by the Aduano 





Station just outside of Ensenada that read 
both "Alto" and "Stop," they stopped— in 
both languages. That proved they were 

The soldado on duty leapt to his feet, stood 
at attention, saluted and rattled on brightly 
in his mother tongue. 

"Bienvenida gran Sehor y Sehora!" This 
remark was followed by a garrulous and 
colorful flow of incomprehensible — to the 
Powells — Spanish. 

"Well!" commented Mr. Powell to Mrs. 
Powell at the conclusion of it. 

The soldado showed all his teeth, bowed 
graciously and jumped on the running board, 
a display of activity reserved for matters of 
international importance only. Barking im- 
portant commands to pedestrians and sleep- 
ing dogs, he piloted the startled Powells 
down La Avenida Ruiz as though it were a 
tortuous channel and thence over the bridge 
to the famous La Playa. 

The hotel was in a state. People were dart- 
ing about in barely suppressed excitement. 
Red, white and green bunting festooned 

duct the Sefior y Sehora!" 

Well, this was sure pretty swell, thought 
the Powells; turning the town out was right! 
Not many places where foreign picture stars 
were treated with such naive courtesy. Quite 
humanly, the Powells began to develop a 
hidden affection for Mexico and its quaint 

THROUGHOUT the dinner that night they 
were even more impressed by the feeling 
that at any moment the curtain was to be 
raised on some climactic act, amateurish per- 
haps, but sincere. After a couple of cham- 
pagnes, Dick and Joan were at the point of 
giving the simple little town a new library. 

After dinner they went out on the balcony 
to gaze at the glorious moonlit bay and the 
Todos Santos Islands that had inspired 
Robert Louis Stevenson to write "Treasure 

Almost as if their appearance were a cue, 
a loud (and exceptionally military) town 
band struck up a march and, with torches 
and flags, started down the road that 

Lili poses with "Robin Hood" Errol on location but in 
their across-the-border hideaway pictures are taboo 

every available cornice; flowers were banked 
in profusion throughout the lobby; a stringed 
orchestra was tuning up in the patio. 

The Powells were touched. 

At the desk of the hotel, they were wel- 
comed by a gentleman of beaming counte- 
nance and a warm handshake. 

"Bienvenida a La Playa Ensenada! This 
is indeed an auspicious occasion! Your 
rooms are ready. Guerrerro! Jose! Con- 

stretches between the little town and the 
hotel grounds. 

Joan was ready to cry, she was so moved. 

A little group of soldados down on the 
wharf started firing a salute on the town 
cannon — slowly, sweating enthusiastically 
and making a great noise. Twenty-one guns! 

"Gosh. . . !" goshed Dick. "Twenty-one 
guns! The tops! You know, they shouldn't 
have done that. That's — that's for royalty!" 

Just then the torchlight procession took a 
sharp turn off the road and marched bravely 
out along the pier to where the soldados were 
proudly puffing from their labors. They drew 
up to attention, facing the bay, where, barely 
discernible as it approached on the dark 
water, a small tender was putting in from a 
battle cruiser, screened from view by the 

Vociferous in the impressive stillness after 
the music and gunfire came the massed voices 
of the 200 inhabitants and 2000 dogs of En- 
senada giving vent to three hearty cheers 
for the Governor of Baja California who had 
just arrived for an official visit! 

It is reliably stated that Mr. and Mrs. 
Powell repaired quickly to the bar, there to 
meditate and take stock. 

I HE presiding genius of Ensenada is Arturo 
Barreda. Officially, he runs the hotel; actu- 
ally, he is known far and wide as El Rev 
toda Ensenada. Son of a Sonora haciendado, 
heir to a two-hundred-thousand-acre rancho, 
he is a man to be reckoned with. In him is 
a strange combination of the blood of the 
Conquistadores and modern Mexico. On 
duty he has the natural suavity of a Con- 
tinental diplomat; off duty he is a caballero 
on the loose. The well-banked fires in his 
eyes break into flame and Ensenada sits back 
in watchful admiration to see what Arturo 
will do next ... he usually does it. 

One of Arturo's best friends is Jimmy Dunn 
— and Dunn has the same love of Mexico 
that you will find in anyone who has lived 
there and known the people intimately. To- 
gether they have bought three hundred acres 
just south of Ensenada upon which they plan 
to build a ranch. They will grow horses and 
cattle (from Arturo's Sonora estate) , beans 
(indigenous) and dudes (imported) . They 
will also lease certain choice lots to a few 
Hollywoodians who like the country for 
something other than a place in which to get 
cockeyed, so that they, too, may build. 

One of the first of these lots went to Grace 
Moore and her husband Valentin Parera. 
Between pictures it has been the wont of the 
songstress to hie herself and husband down 
to the Ensenada Bay in a trailer and pitch 
camp among the tactos and frijoles. She and 
your humble correspondent, along with sev- 
eral others, would long since be property 
owners in Baja California were it not for the 
fact that Mexico has passed laws forbidding 
the owning of property by foreigners. And 
for very good reason, when you consider the 
land and mineral grabbing" propensities of 
certain of our wealthier men. 

Vv HEN the screen's "favorite wife" decided 
tc find out for herself what all this marriage 
business was really like and stepped into the 
bonds of holy wedlock, she did it in En- 
senada. In case you have ever married 
My ma Loy in the dark of a theater, you 
probably felt a certain jealousy toward Pro- 
(Continued on page 93) 



SKIN: elastic, or medium 

NAILS: very broad. This shows that Tyrone is frank, honest, and the 

possessor of good health and a great amount of youthful vitality 
FINGERS: short. Tyrone is an impulsive, quick-witted, impatient person, 

who dislikes details unless he is especially interested 
KNUCKLES: knotty. These knuckles cause Tyrone to look before he leaps, 

think before he speaks, analyze others' actions carefully 


SKIN: elastic 

NAILS: long and narrow. Indicates honesty and frankness combined with 

tact. Will give honest opinion even though uncomplimentary 
FINGERS', short. Joan is mentally alert, acts quickly, a good organizer, 

not a good follower unless teacher knows more than she does 
KNUCKLES: knotty. Serve as brake and make Joan stop and think before 

she speaks. She's safe in trusting her intuition 

It's fun to learn about yourself, learn about your friends! 
Here is the first in a series of articles which explains away 
those mysterious markings on your hand, by the authority — 


WOULD you like to be able to read 
your own hands and the hands of 
your friends? Well, with the aid 
of the hands of some of your favorite mov- 
ing-picture stars, I am going to show you how 
you can do it. 

Begin with the backs of the hands. You 
can tell all about a person's character from 
the backs of his hands. Be sure you have a 
good light; then place the hands, palms 
down, on a flat surface. Now note the fol- 
lowing things: color and texture of skin; 
flexibility — how the hands and fingers fall; 
length of fingers and if finger joints are 
smooth or knotty; fingertips — spatulate, 
conic, square or pointed; nails — shape and 
size — and color. 

To illustrate what I mean, look at the pic- 

ture on this page of the backs of Joan Craw- 
ford's hands. Then study the deductions I 
have made regarding them. 

SKIN: — elastic. This shows originality, ac- 
tivity and versatility. 

Miss Crawford's hands do not bend easily. 
This shows that she has force and determina- 
tion, can not be easily swayed or led, pre- 
fers people to adapt themselves to her rather 
than adapting herself to others. 

NAILS: — long and rather narrow. This indi- 
cates honesty and frankness, combined with 
tact. In other words, if you ask Joan Craw- 
ford's opinion she will give you an honest 
opinion, but will try not to hurt your feelings 
even though the opinion is not complimen- 

FINGERS:— fall apart with the two middle fin- 
gers together. The middle fingers hugging 

together tell of a person who is always aware 
that the future must be faced. This person is 
never caught without a good alibi, either. 

The other fingers, spaced apart, show gen- 
erosity, versatility, an open mind, a modern 
viewpoint and an interest in and the ability 
to do many things well. 

Miss Crawford's fingers are short. She is 
impatient, impulsive, dislikes details, thinks 
and acts quickly and wants her associates to 
do the same. She is quick-witted, mentally 
alert. She is a good organizer, a good leader 
but not a good follower unless she is positive 
that her teacher knows more than she does. 
Then she will listen, in order to study and 
absorb all that the other person has to im- 

Her little finger is crooked. This shows 
shrewdness and the ability to judge people. 

KNUCKLES: — knotty. These knuckles serve as 
a brake and make Joan Crawford stop and 
think before she speaks and acts. Short fin- 
gers need knotty knuckles. These knuckles 
also cause her to analyze and consider the 
deeds and actions of others. 

Because Miss Crawford's fingertips are 
conic and her knuckles are knotty, she is 
safe in trusting both her intuition and her 
powers of analysis. They will not fail her, 
even in a crisis or catastrophe. 



SKIN: elastic. This shows great originality 

NAILS', perfect example of short wide finger- 
nails. These nails make Jane a quizzical, 
argumentative and extremely clever child 

FINGERS: medium length. Jane's well balanced 
and compatible if you will listen to her 
arguments and give in if her idea is right 

FINGERTIPS', perfect example of spatulate tips, 
showing originality, activity and sacrificial 
ove of all animals as pets 


SKIN: fine-textured and white 

NAILS: wide. This indicates that, although 
Anita is a very honest and frank person, 
she never goes to extremes 

FINGERS', long, close together — the fingers of a 
conventional, reserved and extremely cau- 
tious person who dislikes showiness 

KNUCKLES: knotty. Increase her caution and 
cause her to analyze everything with ex- 
treme care before coming to a decision 


imm> i»— ^ 

- • 



COLOR: white 

FLEXIBILITY: extremely flexible. 
Alice is easygoing and adapt- 
able, prone to sacrifice her 
own desires to those of others 

FINGERS: medium length with 
conic tips. Indicate Miss Faye 
is well-balanced, though a 
lover of pleasure and romance 

KNUCKLES: smooth. This charac- 
teristic of knuckles shows 
Alice to be a person endowed 
with intuition and inspiration 

I HE color of your skin tells about your tem- 
perament and your general health. Pink 
skin indicates good health, vitality, and a 
well-balanced temperament. 

Red magnifies all the other characteristics 
and lines of a hand. It suggests a lusty na- 
ture, one apt to go to extremes in all things, 
a person violent both in love and in anger. 

This person should learn to control himself 
early in life or nature will force him to pay 
for his excesses in later years. 

White skin (that is, dead-white skin) im- 
plies a lack of vitality and, as a result, lack 
of ardor, generosity and sympathy. But, 
just as red accentuates, white tones down all 
the other hand characteristics and lines. 

The person with yellow skin is often 
moody, depressed and cranky. If he has a 
sense of humor it is apt to be an acid one. 
He likes to be alone and often his outlook on 
life is so morbid that people elect to leave 
him alone. 

When you are studying the color of hands, 
(Continued on page 82) 



ON the set they call her Leelee, as in 
French. Or they call her Spooks. 
Spooks is a creation of Jack Oakie's. 
"She comes and goes like a spook," he said 
of the little opera singer who popped in and 
out of the lives of the four musicians in "That 
Girl from Paris." 

With Lily Pons standing plain before him, 
Oakie would get down on his knees and peer 
under sofas for her. She'd laugh at his an- 
tics, but the people on the 
set weren't quite sure how 
she was taking it, or 
whether the laugh was just 

Till one day, having re- 
moved her make-up at the 
dressing table, she covered 
her face with a soothing 
layer of rice powder. Then 
she looked at herself in the 
mirror. "Booh! Such a 
Spooks!" she said; and 
thereafter, w h e n a more 
formal mode of address 
was used, "Ze name eez 
Spooks," she'd say. The 
name has stuck. 

Except for her voice, 
there's nothing of the diva 
about Lily Pons. She 
doesn't dramatize herself. 
Her own unaff ectedness 
dispels the awe in which opera singers 
are traditionally held. That sense of 
"Sh! Sh! Here comes the prima donna" 
is conspicuous by its absence. She scorns 
the solitary grandeur of her dressing 
room. "Eet eez lonely zere. 'Ere I 'ave 
fun." So you'll find her out in the open, 
sitting with the gang, learning Amer- 
ican slang from them, delighting in 
their foolery. 

In them she stirs something 
warmer than awe — something of the 
protective tenderness stirred by a 
child. This is partly because she's 
tiny. More essentially, it's because 
she has certain qualities we asso- 
ciate with children — she's natural, 
she's openhearted and she loves to 

One constant source of hilarity 
is her way with the English lan- 
guage. She works hard at mas- 
tering it, but, if it provides a 
little gayety on the side, so 
much the better. She knows 
that her fellow workers mean 
well by her. In fact, they're a 
corps of self-appointed tutors. 
Therefore, if they laugh, it 
must be because there's 
something to laugh at. And 
Lily joins wholeheartedly 
in the sport. 

She's rehearsing a scene 
for "Hitting a New High," 



A teasing Hollywood gave her the 
name, but Lily Pons, by a clever trick, 
walked off chuckling with the game 


and she says, "Don't 
ee-vaire speak to me again." 
"Ever," a prop man, a 
grip and her official teacher 
correct her in chorus. 

"Don't e-vaire speak to 
me again," she repeats, and 
looks from one to the other 
for approval. 

"Bon," says the prop man, 
for, while they teach her 
English, she teaches them 
all the finer points of French. 

In this scene she is called upon to pummel 
and slap John Howard, her fiance. "You're 
choking me," he cries. 

"Choking eez too much good for you," she 
retorts, and knows from the answering shout 
that her tongue has tripped. Hands still on 
John's throat, she lifts her head. "Too much 
bad for me," she chuckles. 

HER jester-in-chief is Jack Oakie. Things 
are fast reaching a point where he has only 
to put in an appearance to make Lily giggle. 
Half the time she has only the vaguest notion 
of what he's talking about. But her faith in 
him is such that she laughs, regardless. 

"Excuse me, Jack," she apologizes, "but I 
sink you will be funny." 

"She sinks I will be funny," declaims Jack 
bitterly, hissing his sibilants. "Ze great aw- 
pay-rah star laughs at ze movie clown." He 
breaks into a stream of pig Gallic, gesticulat- 
ing meanwhile with the violence of a comedy 
Frenchman. Then he jumps to a box, finger 
tips on his heart. 

"Ridi, Pagliaccio," he bellows, pulling out 
all the tremolo stops, sobbing into his 
handkerchief, pausing to wring it dry and 

Lily smashed the prima donna bug- 
aboo in Hollywood, by posing 
with zeal for "leg art," and, when 
the pictures weren't used, by put- 
ting a startling query to her chiefs 

Slacks are Lily's daytime out- 
fit, a fitting one for a diva 
who dares to admit she likes 
popcorn and practical jokes 

Right: Lily with Andre Kostel- 
anetz, her constant escort. 
Her only comment: "So much I 
tell you — some day I marry." 

Far right: on the set of "Hit- 
ting a New High." Jack Oakie 
is jester-in-chief; Lily, his main 
and most appreciative foil 

wink at his audience, who by this time has 
collapsed in the final stages of mirth. 

"Jack," she chokes, wiping the tears away, 
"you are — you are scream." 

"My public." beams Jack, and kisses her 
hand with a flourish. 

From the first, she recognized in the Amer- 
ican spirit something to which she felt herself 
akin. A fundamental simplicity in her re- 
sponded to the informal in us. She revels, 
she glories in what we, who were born to 
this freedom, take for granted. 

Nor has custom staled it for her. Her sec- 
retary, Margherita Tirindelli, known as Tiri, 
for short, is still likely to find her in gales of 
merriment over the morning papers. 

"See, Tiri," she gasps, and points to some 
such headline as "Citizen Takes a Rap at 
Senator." "In Europe we say 'Ze Sen-ah-tor' 
and we bow four times. 'Ere zey rap on 
'eem." She turns impishly solemn for a 
moment. "I tell you what 'appens tomor- 
row, Tiri. Tomorrow 'e geeves zem back ze 
rap, your Sen-ah-tor." 

Tiri tells, too, of a letter Miss Pons once 
received from a young man. He enclosed a 
snapshot of himself in aviator's uniform; he 
told her what college he'd gone to, what clubs 
he belonged to, what work he did, how long 
he'd been married. He ended by expressing 
his admiration for her and inviting her to 

An invitation to lunch with a strange 

young man made Lily's day. But through 

her amusement ran understanding, too. An 

(Continued on page 76) 


White tie and tails, a trailing evening gown identified the Ian 
Hunters of London — but life changed when these casual, happy 
people discovered the Pacific; because Ian has the sea in his 
blood and Casha remembered gay days off England's coast 

THE night before Ian Hunter and his wife 
left England on the Big Adventure that 
took them to Hollywood for the first 
time, we sat in Scott's, at the top of the Hay- 
market in London, eating oysters and drink- 
ing champagne. Four of us occupied the 
square table; Ian, Casha, who is Mrs. Hunter, 
an English actor who has known Ian for 
many years, and myself. 

The trunks were locked. The household 
goods were stored. The tickets for the Paris 
were on a desk at the furnished apartment in 
Berkeley Square that was the Hunters' final 
home before they left London. It was mid- 
December, 1934; and with flags flying Ian and 
Casha Hunter were starting off on yet an- 
other of the adventures they face with so 
much gay bravado. That last evening "at 
home" was quite an occasion, with more than 
a suggestion of tears behind its smiles, for the 
Hunters were leaving their two small sons 
behind, until it seemed wise for them to 

travel 6,000 miles to far-off Hollywood. 

White tie and tails, for Ian; one of the orig- 
inally distinctive frocks she loves, for Casha. 
Oysters and champagne. Orchestra seats for 
a show — it was John Gielgud, in "Hamlet," 
if I remember correctly — and finally supper 
at the famous Savoy Grill, where it seemed 
that every second person who entered 
stopped to say "Bon Voyage" to the Hunters. 
Then a few hours' sleep, a scurry for the boat 
train, a sheaf of telegrams — and off to Holly- 

The next time I saw Ian and Cash — nobody 
ever calls her Casha — was in Hollywood, in 
a cottage at the edge of the sea at Santa 
Monica. No white tie or tails or trailing eve- 
ning frock, that time. Just a swimming suit 
for Ian; slacks, a jumper, and sandals for 
Cash. And upstairs two small boys chatter- 
ing and clattering, while their would-be stern 
parent shouted to "the blokes" to hurry up 
and get dressed, if they wanted to drive to 




Hollywood and collect some much coveted 
ice cream. The Hunters had settled down, in 
no uncertain fashion. 

IN EARLY all the two and a half years since 
they have been in Hollywood, Ian and his 
wife have made their home by the sea. When 
they first arrived they lived in an apartment; 
then one adventurous afternoon they discov- 
ered the ocean. Now Ian has the sea in his 
blood. To him, there is nothing that can beat 
a boat, some sails, and a fishing line. So this 
vision of the sea was a joy beyond all telling. 

There, stretched in front of their eyes, was 
a long, jagged line of houses, assorted as to 
size, decorating a curved sandy beach, with 
the Pacific breakers booming ceaselessly in 
the background. 

"That's a nice little settlement!" said Ian 
to Cash. "Let's see what we can do about 
getting one of those houses." 

The "nice little settlement" was Malibu 
Beach, no less! Malibu, playtime-home of the 
stars, where even the smallest house costs a 
large chunk of bank roll. But Ian did not 
know this when he interviewed Art Jones, 
who more or less runs and manages the place. 
Having remarked airily that he had an idea 
he would like to get hold of a house along the 
beach, Ian was almost stunned at the price 
that was mentioned. In the end, however, he 
took a house; and then began one of the hap- 
piest stretches of his life in California. Ac- 
companied by his wife and "the blokes," he 
spent the days that were not occupied at the 
studio fishing, swimming, sailing. Today, the 
Hunters live in a lovely, highly modern house 
that once belonged to Anna Sten, with a 
swimming pool, a garden banked with flow- 
ers, and a view of the ocean from every 

I HE Hunter household consists of Ian, 
Casha, their eldest son, ten-year-old Jolyon 
(always called Jo) , and their youngest son, 
seven-year-old Robin (always called Wamps, 
or something that sounds rather like the way 
I have written that word) . The two boys are 
attending the Hollywood Military Academy, 
and think a suit of dungaree is the grandest 
kind of costume ever invented. 

The rest of the household is important, too, 
(Continued on page 78) 



When a movie actor turns his back to 
a camera, that's news. When Gable 
does, it's tragic. The compensation? 
Our close-up of a true-blue sportsman 

. , 


RRiNn? y n ii uniiywnnn at it? pihtdriai rfst 



With her usual verve and vitality little Miss T. tackles 
the higher complications of the culinary arts. She gets 
flour in her eyes, but that doesn't floor her for there's 
Pekingese Ching-Ching, her all-time friend, to blink in ab- 
solute approval. Determination, self-reliance, persistence 
give her, in the kitchen as before the camera — perfection 

A new dance combine is formed — torch-sing- 
ing Alice Faye and the versatile George 
Murphy are out to make history. When the 
spectacular dance sequences of "You're a 
Sweetheart" were filmed, Photoplay's 
own cameraman grabbed these actual per- 
formance shots of the dancers, while five 
studio cameras followed the breath-taking 
routine which took the couple from a stage, 
up a flight of silver stairs, around the gallery 
and back onto the stage, over audience and 
orchestra, via a giant swing. Along with their 
dancing, Alice and George do romancing 
while Ken Murray and his stooge, Andy 
Devine and Charles Winninger humorize 


CROSSROADS. Where stars are made, debts are paid 
and actors are a dime a dozen. The Times Square of 
Cinematown — Vine Street crosses Hollywood Boulevard. 
Left: Ken starts his camera cruise by a shot of Alice 
Faye, his co-actor in Universale "You're a Sweetheart" 

LANDMARK. The original Brown Derby on Wilshire Boulevard dozes 
placidly in the afternoon sun. Started by Herb Somborn (ex- 
husband of Gloria Swanson), it was an outgrowth of his desire for 
bigger and better strawberry shortcake and hamburgers. It gained 
rapid popularity, is now the scene of many big off-record deals 

CUPBEARERS OF THE STARS. Starched efficiency, 
pride in profession — those are the signs of the Brown 
Derby waitress. Here is a mother training her tiny 
daughter in the art of serving Miss Temple ten years 
hence. And this could happen only in Hollywood 

!Y TOUR. The Goodyear blimp with its sight-see- 
| cargo circles the spire of the famous Church 
: the Blessed Sacrament on Sunset. Night and 
:iy, over Santa Monica's beaches, Pasadena's Rose 
fw'l, Hollywood high spots, this sky tour goes on 

HOLLYWOOD PISA. Many an unsuspecting tourist 
gapes at the brave man atop this wavering pile of 
old tires. A competent come-on for this particular 
business, his job holds no terrors for him: he is the 
dummy the movie hero used to throw over the cliff 

Market, where many of the stars do their 
own domestic shopping, is this novel 
wheeled wicker receptacle for a tagging 
Junior who rebels at staying home 

I ICTLY BUSINESS. Inside this monu- 
i ital Sphinx goes the wondering tourist, 
I s therein a thriving real-estate office, 
I m emerges the proud possessor of a 
I Itop home" or a dozen orange groves 

TEXAS IN TOWN. In the midst of the bustle of busy 
LaBrea Boulevard is this working oil well. Traffic 
darts deftly right and left around it, the tourist 
stands amazed, the native gives it not a glance — 
for of such modern miracles is this Hollywood made 

COMEBACK TRAIL From a Nevada ranch, Clara Bow, 
with husband Rex Bell, comes back to Hollywood to 
hang her restaurant shingle among Vine Street bright 
lights. There she mingles with those friends she used 
to know, meets as guests the stars of new-found fame 

"DIME AND" DEMOCRACY. Rich star, poor star, beggarman, 
extra, the five-thousand-a-week headliner, the fifteen-a-week 
prop boy — all snatch their "between-shots" lunches at these 
drive-in stands that sprinkle the byways of Hollywood 

GAY DECEIVERS. These professionals in the art of Actionizing 
deal out glamour wholesale — they can show you where Garbo 
bathes every morning at sunset, the glade where Mickey 
Mouse met Minnie, and the spot where Ken hides his salary 





to the 

SANDS OF TIME. The fabulous forecourt of Grauman's Chinese Theater, 
the locale of previews, where, in cement, is the engraved roster of the 
great. A tiny tourist compares her handprints with those of Janet 
Gaynor, dreaming who knows what dreams — just as Janet herself, as 
the Vicki Lester of "A Star is Born," came to stand in awe at Grauman's 

DESERT SPOILS. The mecca of the businessman is in Holly- 
wood. Even as the gold rush era brought the hopeful from 
near and far, so today do prospectors come West — and 
sometimes, as this businessman above, find gold. Discoverer 
of a desert gold mine, this man is soliciting a partner 


vith a dash of spice, is this twenty- 
r-old star whose penchant for over- 
extraordinary hours of sleep is a 
"Discovered" by the great Rein- 
mself, she justifies his faith by her 
o laugh at herself, to wrinkle her 
all absurdities, to act with simplicity 

Demure Miss Bruce went from Holly- 
wood to Broadway to become Amer- 
ica's Most Beautiful Chorus Girl. When 
she returned, her publicity man advised 
she throw out her Ziegfeld modesty to 
pose alluringly as above (upper right) 

Dolores Del Rio's wily press agent knew 
a perfect back when he saw one — 
thought the world would, too. Result 
was the lovely star didn't take her sun 
baths just for health's sake. But today 
she suns in private, wears slacks in public 



tie donated to a 

1 1 Miss Lombard 

Carole of the 

5. But — her hey- 

as later when sex 

;<l out. Then she 

»d herself with 

and gowns to win 

£ as a comedienne 




They dolled up Myrna Loy as a slinky 
siren, but at that she wasn't such a 
smash hit . . . Came a brave new world 
and Mrs. Thin Man. Whereupon, as the 
"Perfect Wife" (left), she's the ideal 
of every girl with a wedding ring 

In sport shoes and the very latest 
thing in beads, P.O.P.A. (per orders 
press agent) Ann Sothern (upper 
right), made her debut. Today she 
shuns such scanty garb, and smothers 
herself from head to feet in furs 


A resort hotel? No, just the little nest that provides 
shelter for the Fredric Marches and their two children 


A Holmby Hillbilly — this showplace houses 
Constance Bennett and her young son, Peter 

The house that radio built belongs to incorri- 
gible Andy (Charles Correll) of "Amos V Andy" 

Breathing space is what Claudette Colbert 
wanted when she planned her charming home 

High on a hilltop overlooking Beverly Hills is 
the magnificent establishment of Sam Goldwyn 




Nestled in a heavily wooded section of Bel- 
Air is Warner Baxter's English country home 

.«■ K 


f V 

eanor Powell and Nelson Eddy 
costar, for the first time, in this 
musical comedy (a love story 
of a West Point cadet and the 
princess of a mythical kingdom) 
made famous on the Broadway 
stage by the late Marilyn Miller 












All the allure of "behind the scenes" Hollywood is glimpsed on the 
sixty-acre set where the dancing spectacle of "Rosalie" is being shot. 
Extras, workmen, make-up artists, dancers and stars comingle as the 
camera travels from group to group for, perhaps, a look-in at Eleanor 
and Nelson in a star-to-star checkup; to a make-up man dabbing at 
Nona Massey before she faces the camera; on to Albertina Rasch 
patiently coaching a few of the 500 dancers in the picture; or to Ray 
Bolger and Eleanor rehearsing a snappy tap routine; then again it 
catches Eleanor in confab with make-up aides Peggy MacDonald and 
George Lane. In other words — it's 9 o'clock, Hollywood time 

— but she's not Scarlett. She's 
"Jezebel," screen heroine of the 
stage play Warners bought long 
before "Gone with the Wind" 
appeared. While her contempo- 
rary Scarlett still languishes on 
paper, belle Bette Davis slyly 
— - 1 -- ^J?** L - J *-- * 


With only two hands and fewer jokes Jack Benny is faced 
with a problem at the Betty Furness-Johnny Green wedding 


epical tales about those Pacific 
-oasf cliff dwellers whose amusing 
i-jinks make for delightful reading 


.JUT of all the heartbreaking court battles 
ecently endured by Freddie Bartholomew, 
omes this one amusing thing. Freddie now 
otes around a monstrous brief case, larger 
md fatter than any lawyer's, and literally 
rammed with legal-looking documents. 
Freddie believes in preparedness. 


HEY say it's only the most unfortunate of 
tars who believe their own publicity. We're 
lot so sure. Take that gift sweater Warner 
Brothers publicity department said Marie 
Vilson was knitting for her boy friend, Nick 
irinde. When Marie heard about the 
Ireamed-up yarn Warners had concocted as 
mblicity, she really bought yarn and did 
nake a ducky little number for the b.f. 

Of course, it may be just^ a little baggy 
here and there, some of the stitches may 
have dropped out of their own accord, but 
Nick Grinde won't part with that sweater for 
anything. You see, it was Marie's first en- 
counter with a pair of knitting needles. 


wNE evening a telephone call from Prov- 
idence, R. I. was put through to Shirley 
Temple's home. Before the little girl on the 
Rhode Island end could say more than 
"Hello, Shirley," the R. I. line was cut off. 

Shirley put down her telephone and ob- 
served, "I'll bet that little girl's mama came 
home sooner than she expected." 


IRANKLY, we've always missed those col- 
orful old days when Gloria Swanson and 
Lilyan Tashman used to stage their fashion 
wars. Seems like the present crop of Holly- 
wood stars is afraid to step right out into the 
open and challenge all comers to a dress bat- 
tle. That's why we are so proud of little 
Edith Fellows, Columbia's child star. 

When she read in the papers that Deanna 
Durbin was to have seven changes of cos- 
tume in "Mad About Music," she made a 

hurried mental check-up; she was wearing 
only six in her picture. The next morning 
she told the director about it. He wasn't in- 
terested. She told the cast about it. They 
gave her more encouragement. So she 
braved the front-office executives with a 
"shame on you for letting Deanna's studio 
get ahead of you" attitude. And now Edith 
Fellows will have ten changes of costume in 
her next picture. 


HELEN BRODERICK has suffered two dis- 
appointments in one month and feels thai's 
plenty for one woman. 

First, the little green things all over 
Helen's trees turned out not to be little green 
oranges, as she had supposed, but avocados. 
There seemed to have been a slip-up some- 
where in the planting. 

Second disappointment came when Helen 
could not get away from work to witness her 
son's debut on the New York stage in "Of 
Mice and Men." 

Then, right in the most dramatic scene of 
her new picture, Victor Moore accidentally 
pulled off the lovely wig Helen was wearing. 

But Helen doesn't count that as a major 
disappointment. She'd honestly be extremely 
disappointed if Victor didn't make a mistake 


This goes on eternally — but watch 
which girls get together — here are Sally 
Eilers, Myrna Loy and Loretta Young 
and see how differently they dress 


/ Vl-G-M isn't happy, it seems, without a 
serious romance amongst its obliging" work- 
ers. For instance, just as J. Walter Ruben 
and Virginia Bruce up and marry, along 
come James Stewart and Rosalind Russell 
to provide the thrills and publicity blurbs. 
Only it isn't all publicity, please remember. 
Jimmie really seems smitten with the lovely 
Miss Russell. 


l,F you want to stay in the swim of social 
things in Hollywood, you must forever keep 
thinking up new and bizarre ways of throw- 
ing an ordinary party. 

Claire Dodd fancied up a honey to cele- 
brate the completion of her latest picture, 
"Romance in the Dark." Her invited guests 
were ushered into a totally dark house. 
What's more, they had to fumble around un- 
til the whole party was pi'esent. But when 
Claire turned on the lights — ooh! On the 
floor lay a broken porcelain vase she valued 
at $1,500. 

There are always big broadcasts going out of Hollywood but our 
favorite of the month was this of Miss Crawford with Spencer 
Tracy very close by and Producer Joe Mankiewicz looking on 

COME 7. COME "21" 

LlJCKY Jean Muir! Let out by Warners 
after several years on that lot, Jeanie came 
East to try her luck on the Broadway stage. 
Being a frugal soul, she took a modest 
walk-up apartment on East Forty-eighth 
Street and resigned herself to the task of job 
hunting in what she knew was the poorest 
theatrical season in years. 

Then came the unexpected break. A 
chance meeting with J. B. Priestley, noted 
British dramatist, one evening in the famous 
"21" Club resulted in an offer to star on the 
London stage in his latest play. Two days 
later a jubilant Jean was on her way across 
the ocean to what promises to be her greatest 
success. Once there, she was bombarded 
with offers from Hollywood at which she po- 
litely, but firmly, turned up her nose. 


LANA TURNER has forgotten her fervent 
young love for Wayne Morris and all because 
of Tim Holt, handsome young son of Jack 

However, Nan Grey hasn't forgotten 
Wayne and seems slightly bewildered at the 
young man's sudden switch to Eleanor 

Janet Gaynor still holds the affections of 
Tyrone Power right in the palm of her little 
white hand. And Tyrone loves it. 

Joe Mankiewicz is still the current head 


feud between Leatrice and Judy seems to 
be more serious than that old feud between 
Hepburn and Rogers. 



OHIRLEY TEMPLE is being particularly 
proud and pleased this month, because her 
own special police force has been recognized 
at last. There are about five hundred people 
enrolled as members, now; Shirley gave 
them all badges and whenever she catches 
anyone without his button she fines him — 
then gives the money to a milk fund. George 
Reyer of New Orleans, President of Inter- 
national Chiefs of Police, sent her a notice 
making her a member and official mascot of 
his organization. . . . 

Clark Gable has kept in constant touch 

with the police department of Los Angeles, 

by the way, ever since his pet pearl-handled 

revolver was stolen by a prowler. He'd 

(Continued on page 72) 



That was this month — sometimes 
it's bike races, sometimes circuses. 
But Norma Shearer (here with 
David Niven and the Johnny Mack 
Browns) makes this the thing to do 



The perfect excuse for a party — 
Back row: Natalie Draper, Diana 
Lewis, Lucie Kaye. Front row: Paula 
Stone, Dixie Dunbar, Carol Stone. 
Anne Shirley, bride-elect Betty 
Grable, Sue Carol, the hostess, 
Mrs. Grant Garrett, Sally Haines 

1 ^ 


man in the life of Loretta Young. And need 
we tell you about June Lang and A. C. 
Blumenthal, New York millionaire — or have 
you heard? 



CHARLES PECK (the poor little rich boy 
in "Dead End") is now working at Metro in 
"Benefits Forgot." The first little girl he 
met on the lot was Leatrice Joy Gilbert who 
took him for her own, refusing to introduce 
him to anyone — particularly Judy Garland. 
Judy, however, sized Charles up and then, 
when he was alone for a minute, went over 
and introduced herself. She invited him 
over to her set to see her work and now the 

Wayne Morris ("Kid Galahad" 
himself) proved as worthy a judge 
of the Golden Gloves matches as 
of the numerous girls he romances 





Her first costume picture — Bette Davis is a perfect "Jezebel" with the aid of Henry Fonda, a new coiffure and a Southern accent 

It's a marvelous place — this Hollywood — where 
a billy goat turns into a problem child, and a big 

star stages a sitdown without creating a strike 


MARVELOUS place, this Hollywood. 
We open the door of a sound stage 
at Warners — and, presto, we step 
from a Twentieth Century street into a great 
hallway in a Twelfth Century castle. Not- 
tingham Castle, to be exact. Part and parcel 
of "The Adventures of Robin Hood." 

It has been fifteen years since Robin Hood 
last adventured on the screen. That was dur- 
ing the reign of Douglas Fairbanks, the First. 
People still remember Doug as Robin, re- 
member him so well that, for fifteen years, 
no producer has dared to risk competition 
with the memory. Now Warners are daring. 
They have sound to help them, Technicolor, 
and — Errol Flynn. 

Warners' specialist in derring-do isn't 
working today. But his costar — Olivia 


(Maid Marian) De Havilland — is. She is 
playing a scene with Basil Rathbone and 
Claude Rains, as fine a pair of conspirators 
as any heroine could hope to foil. 

Olivia tells us, "I've always wanted to slink 
along a spooky hallway in a billowing dress 
— here's my chance." 

The three men are in the foreground, in 
front of a great fireplace. Blazing logs give 
a flickering, eerie light to the vast barren 
room. Through one window, far to the right, 
streams a beam of blue light (moonlight, to 
you) . The rear wall is about forty feet 
away. Down this wall, at a steep angle, goes 
a long, narrow flight of stone steps without a 

Olivia, at the top of these steps, hears the 
conspirators plotting; tries to steal down, un- 

observed, to warn Robin Hood; is trapped. 
This descent is an acid test of Olivia's nerves 
and poise. 

On the first "take," she is about halfway 
to the bottom — and realistically clinging to 
the wall, we might add — when she gives Di- 
rector William Keighley a bad moment. She 
suddenly sits down. He thinks the constant 
looking-down has dizzied her. In a flash, he 
is beside her. 

He learns what really happened: she had 
stepped on her long skirt and had been 
pulled off balance. He beams with relief 
that her nerves are intact. But he says, with 
mock sorrow, "And I had visions of carrying 
you to safety! Why is it directors can never 
be heroes?" 

WE go on down the studio street, pull open 
another door, and are in a New Orleans man- 
sion of a century ago. 
This is the set of 
"Jezebel," in which 
Bette Davis is behav- 
ing in a Scarlett 
O'Hara manner. 

As man to man: director 
Ernst Lubitsch shows 
Gary Cooper how to 
buy a necktie in "Blue- 
beard's Eighth Wife" 


"Tush, tush!" says Bette to the rumors. 
"The only similarity is that the girl I por- 
tray, like Scarlett, is a hundred years ahead 
of her time. 'Jezebel' was a play on Broad- 
way two and a half years before 'Gone with 
the Wind' ever appeared." 

Bette's costar, in a name-studded cast, is 
Henry Fonda. The director is William Wyler, 
second husband of Henry's first wife, Mar- 
garet Sullavan. And everything on the set is 
harmonious. That's Hollywood. 

For the first time in pictures, Bette is in 
costume — and very devastating, too, with her 
coiffure of brief curls and her Southern ac- 
cent. It seems Bette, too, has long had an 
urge to glide across a room in a billowing 
dress. So here is her chance, also in a hall- 

She is alone in the scene. She steals into 
the hallway; takes off her cloak, folding it 
over her arms; pauses; turns on that South- 
ern belle charm; then glides, chin up, to- 
ward the next room. Without looking down, 
Bette must pause at a certain mark on the 
floor. She will be out of focus if she doesn't 
hit it. Even an expert like Bette needs three 
tries to do the trick. 

We go on to a third Warner sound-stage 
door, and are in a cafe in Montmartre; time, 
the present. We are on the set of "Food for 
Scandal," costarring Fernand Gravet and 
Carole Lombard, directed by Mervyn Le- 

This is Carole's last comedy before she 
does a drama "for a change." 

It is a spicy tale about an American movie 
star on a trip abroad who meets a young, 
handsome, but penniless French nobleman 

whose principal assets are suavity and a tal- 
ent for cooking. He insists on becoming first 
her chef, then her suitor. 

They meet, in the script, in this cafe. 
Carole is dining alone, incognito, in a bru- 
nette wig. Two college boys walk up to her 
table, beg her pardon, then ask her to settle 

a bet. Isn't she Miss , the American 

movie star? She fingers a tress of her wig 
and asks, with a heavy and phony French ac- 
cent, "But isn't she blonde?" 

The two boys have the same problem as 
Bette Davis. Without looking down, they 
have to hit certain marks on the floor. Time 
after time, in quick succession, they do the 
scene over. 

As they begin, Carole has just lighted a 
cigarette. As they finish, she crushes the 
stub in an ash tray. 

("ROM there, we head for Universal, to see 
Deanna Durbin and Herbert Marshall in 
"Mad About Music." We step on the set and 
are in a Swiss girls' school. We see the Alps, 
on a backdrop, through the windows. 

Deanna plays the offspring of a Hollywood 
glamour queen, whose public mustn't think 
she's old enough to have a fourteen-year-old 
child. Hidden away in this Swiss school, 
lonely, Deanna invents a tale of a loving 
father who is coming to see her. By amus- 
ing ruses, she persuades Marshall, who is 
visiting the town, to play the role of her 

This time, Deanna is singing no operatic 
arias. She sings "Ave Maria" and four mod- 
ern numbers. For the first time in a picture, 
she knows the pangs of puppy love. Jackie 

"Little Miss Roughneck" (Edith Fellows), paradoxically, sings grand opera 

Moran is the boy (and, as far as he is con- 
cerned, it's a real romance) . For the first 
time, too, Deanna is not being directed by 
Henry Koster. Her director is Norman Tau- 
rog — famous both for musicals. and for pi 
tures starring children. This is the first com- 
bination of the two that he has directed. He 
likes it. "Deanna," he says, "is what I like 
a child to be: natural, unaffected, happy." 

We ask him the secret of his handling of 
children. "I talk their language; I don't ex- 
pect them to talk mine. I remember what 
unconscious mimics children are. I never act 
out a scene for them. I go over their lines 
with them, tell them what I'd like them to 
do, then say, 'Now do it your own way.' I 
also try to surprise them into emotions. 
Watch this!" 

Deanna is talking with Marshall. Sud- 
denly, she is to be conscious of a door open- 
ing, one of her teachers entering. She is to 
turn, startled. Taurog rehearses her until he 
knows she has her turn timed perfectly. He 
doesn't tell her to look startled, as we expect. 
Instead, he calls for a "take." The scene goes 
along to the point where Deanna is to turn 
her head. Suddenly, Taurog bellows, "Look!" 
Everybody on the set is startled — including 
Deanna. Taurog has what he wants, in one 

/\T Columbia, which we visit next, we see 
a clever fourteen-year-old -in action — Edith 
Fellows in "Little Miss Roughneck." It is 
her first starring picture, and in it Producer 
Harry Cohn is revealing a carefully guarded 
secret: Edith has an operatic voice. 

She plays, as usual, a youngster with a 
flair for getting into scrapes. This time she is 
a child wonder intent on getting into the 

But today she is all sweetness and light. 
In a glamorous silk floor-length gown, she 
is singing "Cara Nome" from "Rigoletto," 
against a background of trees in bloom. 
Edith, in this scene, has long hair. Her 
grandmother-guardian assures us that it is 
Edith's own: "I cut it when she was little 
and saved it, and they've made it into a wig." 

Next we get in on a Christmas Eve party 
on the set of "No Time to Marry," from Paul 
Gallico's story, "The Night Before Christ- 
mas," in which Richard Arlen, Mary Astor 
and Lionel Stander, among others, are hav- 
ing themselves a time. 

There's always something new in Holly- 
wood. Here, for example, we come upon a 
problem goat — Elmer, by name. Elmer, ac- 
quired by some inebriate member of the 
party, is supposed to eat the ornaments on 
the tree, the gifts, and part of a sofa. The 
script says so. But Elmer is reneging. 

We see how a prop department can fool 
even a discerning billy goat. The gifts are 
unwrapped, the boxes are loaded with empty 
ice-cream cones, then rewrapped. The orna- 
ments are dipped in a tasty syrup. Essence 
of garlic is rubbed on the sofa. Elmer is al- 
lowed a sniff of all the aromas, then turned 
loose on the set. Elmer acts as if he has been 
(Continued on page 91) 




TRED ASTAIRE'S dancing once again proves him a 
' better man than any of his tapping fellows. On 
his slender shoulders he carries almost the entire 
burden of entertainment, aided somewhat by George 
Burns and Gracie Allen. 

P. G. Wodehouse's funny yarn about a titled Eng- 
lish heiress who falls in love with a famous dancer 
does not make superior screen material; too much 
of the dialogue and action is shoved off on minor 
characters who are badly cast. Joan Fontaine, as 
the girl, is rather restrained. Burns and Allen join 
in Fred's various numbers and together make amus- 
ing substitution for Ginger Rogers. You will be 
delighted with Astaire's rhythmic gymnastics, and 
his swing drum finale is the best he has ever done. 
George Gershwin's last score enlivens the piece. 

• SUBMARINE D-1— Warners 

A N accurate revelation of the dramatic thrills of 
' ' the submarine service plus an elaborate produc- 
tion make this a stirring cinema and easily one of the 
finest navy pictures on record. The story means 
little, but the experiences of a new submarine's crew 
on their maiden voyage and the subsequent war 
maneuvers make spectacular entertainment. Par- 
ticularly for the masculine audience. 

George Brent as the submarine commander turns 
in his best performance in months. Ditto for Pat 
O'Brien who seems born to his role. Wayne (Kid 
Galahad) Morris is back with a part that will do 
much to make him an independent star. Frank 
McHugh and a new player. Dennie Moore, furnish 
the comedy relief and the entire Pacific fleet makes 
notable contributions. Definitely a hit. 

A Review 
of the New Pictures 



• WELLS FARGO— Paramount 

W/ITHOUT the voice and enchanting personality 
w of Lily Pons, this would be only a minor comedy 
starring Edward Everett Horton and Jack Oakie. 
Lovelier than ever, Lily lifts the none too brilliant 
story to a high level. As a cabaret singer with op- 
eratic ambitions, she hoaxes eccentric art patron 
Horton into thinking she is a bird girl from Africa; 
while he readies her for a great singing debut she 
warbles songs in a night club because she loves 
bandleader John Howard. This setup allows Miss 
Pons to wear bizarre feather costumes, most flatter- 
ing, and to get into eventual trouble. 

It may seem a little incongruous to see Diva Pons 
in tights, singing popular tunes, but her delightful 
operatic sequences, including the mad scene from 
"Lucia," are in keeping with her reputation. 

W/HEN a gangster buys a recording company and 
vv is torn between his own passion for jazz and 
his mother's demand that he record operas, much 
that is funny, exciting and entertaining should hap- 
pen. It certainly does in this. With fine acting 
performances by Leo Carrillo, Gene Autry, Ann 
Dvorak, Tamara Geva. Phil Regan, Henry Armetta. 
Luis Alberni and contributions by such musical hot 
shots as Ted Lewis, Cab Calloway, Jack Jenny and 
Kay Thompson, the whole film goes to town in 
rollicking rhythm. 

Phil Regan's romantic songs pack a punch and 
Miss Geva makes a most impressive bid for movie 
fame. Gene Autry is a two-fisted songaroo. Car- 
rillo, ideally cast, has a field day in his role. For 
sheer entertainment and enjoyment, A-No. 1. 



Goldwyn Follies, The Wells Fargo 

Nothing Sacred Damsel in Distress, A 

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Submarine D-1 

Tovarich Manhattan Merry-Go-Round 

Hitting a New High 

\AGNIFICENTLY staged and produced against a 
panoramic background of American history, this 
is the highly romantic and human story of a young 
couple fighting for happiness against the dangers 
of a growing nation. Marriage here is glorified dra- 
matically, but with humor; and no two stars in 
Hollywood could have done a better job of it than 
have Joel McCrea and his wife, Frances Dee. Their 
superlative performances, plus the masterly direc- 
tion of Frank Lloyd, the photography and produc- 
tion, make this one of those pictures which gives 
Hollywood its deserved claim to artistic greatness. 

The story is an episodic, rather long — but fasci- 
nating — account of the establishment of communi- 
cation facilities in the early West. McCrea, an ex- 
press messenger between New York and the then 
frontier town of St. Louis, meets and loves the ex- 
quisite, cultured Frances; when he is sent further 
into the wilderness she goes with him as his wife. 
Then begins the eternal fight between Joel's integ- 
rity in his work which keeps him constantly travel- 
ing and his desire to make a home for his wife. 
Poignant scenes arise from this conflict in loyalties. 
Frances is steadfast while he weathers the gold rush 
and stops a run on the San Francisco banks; then 
a misunderstanding separates them. 

Finale here is a triumph of married love and of 
the American spirit as personified in these two 
splendid characters. Bob Burns and Porter Hall are 
outstanding, but every cast member is superior. 



Claudette Colbert in "Tovarich" 
Charles Boyer in "Tovarich" 

Carole Lombard in "Nothing Sacred" 

Fred Astaire in "Damsel in Distress" 
Lily Pons in "Hitting a New High" 

Frances Dee in "Wells Fargo" 
Joel McCrea in "Wells Fargo" 


I I ERE. truly, is something absolutely new in the 

' ' amusement world. That Walt Disney is a 
genius in fantasy and drawing needs no restate- 
ment here, but in "Snow White and the Seven 
Dwarfs" he has attempted his most ambitious 
achievement and succeeds as marvelously as he has 
in the past with Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck 
and all the Silly Symphonies. 

This is the first time that he has turned his great 
gift to the depiction of human characters. He gives 
us here Snow White, The Prince and the Queen 
Witch. ' He is still greatest when he deals with 
animals and dwarfs, yet never once does the happy 
make-believe mood of this seven-reel production 
fail to beguile you. 

Disney has been working on this film for three 
years. Mechanically it has many innovations. There 
is in it the first use of the multiplane camera, which 
gives the picture a third-dimensional quality un- 
known to films before. The color reproduction 
couldn't be lovelier and the symphonic score is truly 
distinguished. That story is very brief, the usual 
fairy-tale setup of beauty under a spell, the 
enamored prince and the wicked villainess. 

Disney has brought forth spectacular scenes like 
that of Snow White's frightful trip through the 
woods when she is pursued by weird growing 
images, and other Dhenomenal transformations. 

Go see "Snow White and the Seven Divarfs." En- 
chanting is the word for it. 


* TOVARICH— Warners 

* "NOTHING SACRED"— Selznick-United Artists * THE GOLDWYN FOLLIES— Goldwyn-U. A. 

DRILLIANTLY devised from the famous play, and 
^ with many additions from the inventive Holly- 
wood mind, this combines the suavest sort of dra- 
matic story with comedy in the new padded-cell 

Claudette Colbert and Charles Boyer, appreciative 
of each other's talents and superbly matched, create 
together the characters of basically simple design, 
despite the direction of Anatole Litvak who often is 
inclined to the rococo. 

With a leisurely beginning but without a per- 
ceptible flaw, there is unrolled an incident in the 
lives of two happily married White Russians of 
royal birth, who now after the Revolution live 
in the poverty of a Paris garret. Boyer, the hus- 
band, is custodian of some forty billion francs en- 
trusted to him by the Tsar, but idealistically saves 
the fortune. He and Claudette, to be able to eat, hire 
out as butler and maid to a wild family. Then en- 
sues a merry and highly amusing interlude when 
the employer, a loony banker, his gabby wife and 
two youthful offspring all fall variously in love with 
the two new domestics. In the end both drama and 
buffoonery are climaxed at a dinner party at which 
Boyer and Miss Colbert are recognized by guests, 
and a Soviet Commissar makes a desperate plea 
for the imperial millions. 

Melville Cooper impresses solidly and Isabel 
Jeans does fine work. Basil Rathbone is morbid, 
with polish, as the Commissar. You must see it. 

A IDED by color, an extremely smart Ben Hecht 
** script and the competent direction of William 
Wellman, Carole Lombard and Fredric March have 
turned in a wild comedy drama that for this re- 
viewer tops "My Man Godfrey." 

It may seem unbelievable to say that a plot fea- 
turing Carole and Fred punching each other on the 
chin has a delicate theme, but it really has. Se- 
riously dramatized, the plot might be grim indeed: 
but, satirized, it is packed with irrepressible laugh- 
ter, novelty and strange tenderness. 

Unable to diagnose accurately Carole's temporary 
ailment, Doctor Charles Winninger tells the press 
she has incurable radium poisoning. Fredric March, 
a reporter temporarily in the "doghouse," promises 
his editor to develop the situation into the season's 
biggest sob story. Playing the benefactor, he brings 
Carole and the doctor to New York for a round of 
gay parties to tempt tears, public sympathy and in- 
creased circulation. Then he finds himself in love 
with the girl. When she plans a fake disappearance 
to end it all she merely pours rich oil on the comedy. 

Miss Lombard is at her most scintillating and her 
darkened hair becomes her. March has not been so 
delightfully cast since "The Royal Family." Win- 
ninger and Walter Connolly contribute much to the 
picture's importance and the wrestling match, the 
Frank Fay tableaux honoring heroines of history 
and the Sultan's dinner are brilliant nonsense. 

It's among the ranking laugh-films of all time. 

N ( 

|OW comes "The Goldwyn Follies" to set a new 
high in cinematic, satirical extravaganza. Long 
known as the dream of sponsor Samuel Goldwyn. 
it now reaches you as a show within a show — a 
distinguished tapestry of beauty, color and comedy. 
Exquisite settings, gay situations share footage and 
appeal with the talents of an exceptional cast. 

The story has to do with Hollywood's original "no" 
girl (Andrea Leeds), and a producer whom nobody 
"noes" (Adolphe Menjou). Andi'ea Leeds has the 
picture's biggest role. She plays the youngster who 
dares to criticize Menjou's production, is overheard 
by him, and is suddenly vaulted to the position of 
his chief friend and mentor. Through her pertinent 
observations, she enables Menjou to produce a suc- 
cessful show. Romance reaches its peak when An- 
drea falls in love — not with Menjou, but with a hot- 
dog salesman. 

Menjou, as the producer, is polished and perfect. 
Miss Leeds takes another big step towards certain 
stardom. Goldwyn's showmanship has further glor- 
ified his "Follies" by bringing to you, from the 
Metropolitan, Helen Jepson. Balanchine's American 
ballet, so beautiful in Technicolor, dances the famed 
Water Nymph Ballet sequence with Vera Zorina as 
premiere danseuse. Phil Baker races the Ritz 
Brothers for comedy honors to the tune of Charlie 
McCarthy's deadly sallies, the songs of radio's Ella 
Logan and Kenny Baker, and the poignant Gershwin 
music. A production you will never forget. 



THREE youngsters with distinctly different view- 
' points meet in a jockeys' boardinghouse and later 
find their experiences at the race track do much 
to fit them for the years ahead. Mickey Rooney 
walks away with a picture planned to introduce 
Ronald Sinclair as a new star. Judy Garland and 
Sophie Tucker look after the feminine interest and 
the music. The racing sequences are grand. 



THERE will be no bouquets for "Blossoms." The 
' plot was nipped in the bud. Overelaboration 
makes one forget the theme; furthermore, a bunch 
of capable actors runs helter-skelter. Edward 
Arnold is a likeable rogue who keeps within the 
law only to find the heiress he was promoting is a 
phony, too. Bill Frawley wins laughs; Shirley Ross 
sings well; Weber and Fields are well presented. 

BIG TOWN GIRL— 20th Century-Fox 

A HAPPY little tale of an overzealous press agent, 
' * Alan Dinehart, who makes a great radio star 
of Claire Trevor, a small-town song plugger. The 
things that happen to Claire on her rise to stardom, 
instigated by Dinehart, furnish most of the laughs. 
Donald Woods, as Claire's beau, turns in a grand 
performance as do Miss Trevor and Dinehart. A 
cozily snug little picture that you'll like 

STORM IN A TEACUP— Korda-United Artists 



/^^\NE of those gems that pop up with no advance 
^ — ballyhoo to prove that the English have a defi- 
nite flair for comedy, particularly that involving 
what they call "the lower classes." This is an ex- 
tremely funny, at times hilarious, piece about the 
deflation in ego of a pompous Scotch politician 
brought about by a newspaper man who falls in love 
with the Scot's daughter. The cast is perfection. 

W/ HEELER and Woolsey's farewell as a movie 
" team is one of their gayest pictures in a blue 
moon. The boys are aided in the nonsense by Lupe 
Velez who sings several peppy songs and mimics 
well-known movie stars. The boys themselves set 
off in a seaplane to capture jewel thieves and their 
mad antics in the air furnish most of the laughs. 
You'll find it's fun for the whole family. 


'ITH the mysterious "Octopus" head of a spy 
combine as the object of search, screwball de- 
tectives Allen Jenkins and Hugh Herbert escort you 
through rapid and chill adventure in this. Most of 
the action takes place in a deserted lighthouse full 
of cobwebs and bodies and electric monsters, but 
the persistent comedy saves you from heart failure 
if you frighten easily. (Continued on page 96) 

i/JBH— M— • 


TULLIO CARMINATI has not been seen enough 
' lately by his many admirers, who will, therefore, 
welcome him as the hero of this complicated tale 
concerning the rise of a street singer (Anna Neagle). 
Through Tullio's sacrificial efforts, and despite the 
skullduggery of Robert Douglas, Anna becomes a 
famous dancer. Miss Neagle's song-and-dance, "Jin- 
gle of the Jungle," is a knockout. 




Green woolen styles Janet Gaynor's dressmaker suit 
created for her personal wardrobe by Omar Kiam. 
High revers and neck scarf of henna top a single- 
breasted jacket and flared skirt with front godets. 
Janet's henna felt hat is a Robert Galer model 




'IWB Es 


Across the page: Smart new lines 
distinguish this suit of dusty-pink 
woolen designed for Ann Sothern 
by Edward Stevenson for "She's 
Got Everything." The wrist-length, 
boxy jacket with full draped sleeves 
and flap pockets closes to an un- 
trimmed neckline with black disc 
buttons. Beneath, Ann wears a 
black cashmere sweater to match 
the shadow thread that is woven 
into the suit fabric which also 
boasts a cream stripe. The skirt, 
straight in back, has a double 
kick pleat finishing the front 

Ginger Rogers wears this contrast 
suit, also designed by Edward 
Stevenson, in "Having Wonderful 
Time." The beige crepe hand- 
tucked peplum blouse with wing 
' collar and tab breast pockets is 
worn over a brown woolen skirt, 
and the two colors are repeated in 
the plaid of the three-quarter 
length collarless coat. The slightly 
upturned brim on Ginger's 
brown felt hat has a smart quill 




e Stradner's waterproof coat 
noss-green burberry (left), for 

weather. Leather-belted with 
p inset pockets and flowing 
ves, its interest centers in a 
ca which crosses under the chin 
asten on either shoulder. When 
worn as a head covering, the 
ca falls into a soft cowl collar. 

appears in "The Last Gang- 
with Edward G. Robinson 

Claire Trevor's diagonal grey and 
white tweed coat designed by Her- 
schel for her to wear in "Big Town 
Girl" is a stunning model to copy 
for early spring. It will top your 
town or casual frocks with equal 
chic. Black antelope fashions the 
back collar which is attached to 
high, stitched revers. Note the 
triangular buttons and the pip- 
ing around the large patch pockets 

Photograph by Frank Powolny 

|Br ■ 









The smart advance PHOTOPLAY 
Hollywood Fashions shown on 
these two pages are available 
to you at any of the department 
stores and shops listed on Page 98 


rT KrW< ... UaOO s 

Harriet Hilliard, RKO star of "Broadway After 
Midnight," puts gayety into her winter wardrobe 
with a floral pattern on black crepe (opposite 
page, far left). The design grows from a slender 
skirt to the left shoulder of a simple high-necked 
blouse. The tie sash repeats the predomi- 
nant colorings, emerald green and wood violet 

In another multicolor print (opposite page, 
center) Harriet's straight skirt and softly draped 
blouse, which is held by a tie of the dress fabric, 
assures a silhouette neat as a paper of pins 

Embroidered collar and cuffs of white pique 
lend a crisp note to Harriet's black alpaca frock 
(opposite page, right). The dress is styled witfi 
a shirtmaker blouse and twelve-gore skirt and 
trimmed with self-covered buttons and a fab- 
ric belt with buckle of the same material 

A wide red suede belt and matching zippers that 
release soft gathers on the blouse add a color- 
ful note to Harriet's light-weight woolen frock 
checked in two shades of grey beige (directly 
above). Stitched sunburst tucks give interest- 
ing detail to the front and back of the skirt. And 
— all these dresses are priced under $25.00 

As alternate color interest for her 
brown frock, Frances wears an off- 
the-face hat of coral felt with a 
band of brown grosgrain ribbon 
that finishes in back with double 
tab ends. Vertical stitching adds 
interest to the novel high crown 

To highlight a brown street frock, Frances 
Drake chooses this new high profile hat of 
canary-yellow felt with a wide-crown band 
and side trimming of brown grosgrain 








Ultimate chic for formal days and 
informal evenings appearsinSimone 
Simon's suit of black broadcloth 
designed by Royer for her to wear 
in "Love and Hisses." A flexible 
diamond flower ornaments one side 
of the black velvet collar which is 
a distinguishing note of the square- 
shouldered, short jacket. The dainty 
blouse of white crepe is smocked 
with black French knots. A dou- 
ble silver fox scarf is perfect 
complement for Simone's costume 

Photograph hy Hurreli 

Annabella (right), appearincM 
William Powell in "The Bailie 
and the Butler," poses for he fi 
fashion picture, exclusively f 
Photoplay, wearing a silk coruro 
suit in bright burgundy froil It 
own wardrobe. The jacket felun 
large flap pockets (they drop el 
the hemline of the jacket), lirrh| 
buttons and welt seams. Th 'sk 
has a front kick pleat stitchd 
the hipline. A scarf of heavy/hi 
silk hides a grey cashmere sveat 

Photograph by Frank >U'« 

* * *•& 


^* t 



1 1 



Cocktails at six and then a dinner date! 
Not a minute to run home and dress. So 
Mary selected this frock of black silk 
alpaca with draped blouse and under- 
skirt of the same fabric in steel grey, 
and topped it with one of Hollywood's 
famous "beanies" of black antelope 

Mary's two 
right), gayly 
black, pink a 
a "Before D 
shirt has a s 
and grey, 
frocks from 

-piece sport frock (far 
skirted in stripes of red, 
nd grey, was donned for 
awn" breakfast and golf 
. The black flannel gaucho 
lit pocket banded in red 
Mary purchased these 
Josephy of Beverly Hills 

What to wear when social en- 
gagements crowd closely into 
business hours! Paramount photo- 
graphed these fashions of Mary 
Carlisle exclusively for Photo- 
play to show you how the stars 
dress at work — for they, too, 
have "career girl" problems 

A frock of blue-green woolen (left), and 
absinthe-yellow tweed coat and a twin 
hat and scarf set of rust suede (above 
left) assured Mary the perfect groom- 
ing for an important luncheon engage- 
ment during the shooting of "Doctor 
Rhythm." The frock laces up the front 
to a tailored collar with self-fabric cord- 
ing. Matching bows trim the sleeves. 
The insert shows how the novel scarf 
reflects the treatment of her chic hat 


\e r 



^* Aa^ s 


c\° se lne v^ A o' 





FOR the past few months I've been so busy 
telling you the news about Hollywood 
gowns, hats and accessories that I've 
overlooked the very important item of shoes. 

To gather news of coming shoe trends that 
the stars will follow, I went straight to the 
salon of Aprile — Hollywood's famous shoe- 
maker who designs and creates footwear for 
such famous stars as Marlene Dietrich, Kay 
Francis, Carole Lombard, Grace Moore, 
Jeanette MacDonald and Constance Bennett. 

Aprile, a native of Italy, learned his trade 
under the illustrious Yantorny who never 
accepted a shoe order under $5000. Aprile is 
now the shoe dictator of Hollywood. 

"A beautifully shod foot should go unno- 
ticed," was the first comment he made to me. 

What then, I questioned, of the shoes peo- 
ple are wearing today — those that climb the 
instep, boast multiple perforations and cut- 
outs, expose heel and toe. 

"They are ugly, grotesque and heavy look- 
ing, and find no place in the shoe wardrobe 
of the well-dressed woman," was Aprile's 
immediate reply. 

Aprile feels that the cutout toe (and 
merely a very small cutout, at that) belongs 
only to the dressy cocktail or evening shoe 
(or to the "play clothes" shoe which he does 
not make) . As for shoes that climb the in- 

step — he makes them only for a special foot, 
and considers them fitting only, when they 
complement a heavy tweed -suit. 

This means that the well-dressed stars of 
Hollywood are to wear simple shoes this 
coming season. Navy, grey, beige and black, 
styled in leathers (Aprile does not favor fab- 
ric shoes except for evening slippers) , will 
be color favorites. 

l OR resort and early summer dress wear, 
the all-white shoe is a Hollywood favorite. 
For sport costumes, Aprile introduces two 
color combinations. He trims his all-white 
shoes with a contrast leather, such as lizard 
or calf on antelope. He never makes a sport 
pump, as he feels a sport costume calls for a 
strictly tailored shoe. 

According to Aprile, there are only four 
types of costumes and each one of the four 
needs its own shoe — street; spectator sport; 
late afternoon; and evening. The first group 
calls for a tailored shoe; the second, for a 
strictly sport oxford or a shoe with an instep 
strap; the third, for a pump or dressy oxford; 
and the last, for any shoe that becomes the 
foot and is in keeping with the influence of 
the gown. 

Aprile will feature kidskin in the coming 
season, and will continue to use antelope for 
dressy shoes. 

I; ALSO visited Joyce of Hollywood, a re- 
nowned manufacturer of play shoes. He 
makes those gay and colorful shoes that do 

so much to accent slacks, shorts and the play 
dresses that are so popular. 

For the coming season, his shoes will be in 
two and three color combinations and will 
feature a new leather made particularly for 
him, called "duckskin." His little shoes have 
cutouts here and there; some are toeless, to 
allow red toenails to peek through; and all 
have diminutive heels or practically none 
at all. One of his most important shoes has 
a padded sole that leads into a half -inch heel. 

Joyce has had two interesting and novel 
motifs printed for his shoes this coming sea- 
son. One, the market print, is scattered with 
tiny vegetables. The other, the cock and bull, 
has the cock adorning the vamp of one shoe, 
the bull the other. You'll see these play 
shoes in every major city in the country. 

MENTION of play togs reminds me to tell 
you of the wardrobe designed by Herschel 
for Dolores Del Rio to wear in "Shanghai 

One costume is a suit of white serge with 
matching topcoat. The short jacket is out- 
lined with a padded roll which also serves as 
top edging for two breast pockets. Beneath 
the jacket is a white-silk jersey surplice 
blouse that crosses high on the neck. The 
full-length topcoat draws its styling from 
Chinese influence. It closes to the left side 
at the waistline, with a scroll motif fashioned 
of a padded roll that extends upward to out- 
line the opening of the coat blouse. This coat 
has a large patch pocket on the left hip. 

A second ensemble is of silk jersey. The 
frock of white has a square neckline shirred 
two inches deep across the front, thereafter 
releasing the fullness into the blouse. This 
fullness is caught in again at the waistline by 
an inset belt of the dress fabric, and released 
again below the belt to flow into the skirt 
front. Atop this frock is a redingote of pais- 
ley printed jersey in shades of black, green 
and white, styled with princesse lines and 
belted with green suede. A flat choker neck- 
lace of silver fills in the square neckline of 
the frock, and a matching bracelet jingles on 
Dolores' arm. Josephy of Hollywood de- 
signed this fascinating Oriental jewelry. 

June Lang appears with Dolores Del Rio 
in "Shanghai Deadline," and Herschel has 
also created some attractive clothes for her. 

One frock of powder-blue wool with a 
wrist-length jacket boasts a bias back, 
straight front and bell sleeves styled in 
shades of blue Rodier tweed with a brown 

GwENN WAKELING designed two smart 
town frocks for Annabella to wear in "The 
Baroness and the Butler." 

One is a dressmaker suit of pink beige. 
The slim skirt has a matching jacket that is 
edged with moss upholstery fringe which 
also fashions a military chest motif. A scarf 
of white crepe, monogrammed in brown 
yarn, crowds the neckline. 

A tailored frock is of interest because of 
its touch of color and its leather trim. Fash- 
ioned of sheer brown wool highlighted by a 
shadow thread of beige, the frock opens to a 
deep V-neckline which is filled with a yellow 
chiffon scarf matching a large pocket ker- 
chief. The skirt has a double inverted bias 
front pleat. A brown pigskin belt with a 
triple tassel closing matches tiny cuffs on the 
five-eighth length sleeves which also have 
hidden underlay cuffs of sheer beige woolen. 


•. is ** -^ • ,1 
******** * # *' 

* * ****** A 8 



Raft refuses role in "Temple Drake" . . . Raft 
fells producer in fight over line . . . Raft walks 
out on "You and Me" . . . such have been the 
headlines that have marked this actor's career 
and labeled him "hard to handle." But it's 
not just love of battle that makes George fight 

Hollywood branded him a bad boy 
— but few know or have tried to find 
out what lies behind the unemotional 
surface of George Raft's personality 


The story thus far: 

GEORGE RAFT, born on Forty-first 
street, New York City, son of a Ger- 
man father and an Italian mother, 
always wanted to be well enough known to 
be greeted by passers-by with "Hi, Georgie!" 
Running away from home at fourteen, after 
knocking out a schoolroom bully who 
taunted him because he was smart enough 
to skip a year, he "bummed" for a while, got 



Jack Oakie turns up 
at the circus with the 
three who know 
George best. Mack 
Gray, ex-fight man- 
ager; Virginia Pine, 
the only woman in 
Hollywood with whom 
George's name has 
ever been linked; and 
her daughter Joan, 
whom Raft idolizes 

aytime jobs as grocery boy, electrician's 
elper, clerk, longshoreman. But these jobs 
/ere only a means to an end, for he wanted 
ame. In order to get it he fought twenty- 
wo times in the professional ring, quitting 
fter his seventh knockout, tried professional 
iaseball for one spring, saw that he wasn't 
tted for this kind of stardom, began to de- 
elop his dancing. 

ow continue the story: 

) ANCING? George couldn't get enough of 
t. Gradually, by a trial and error method 
f his own, he conceived interpretations, 
memorizing odd steps which came to him. 

"I never had a lesson," he says. "I've 
earned everything I know by watching and 
:stening. By book and school standards I'm 
ot educated. I seldom crack a book." 

By this time changes were taking place in 
| tie family. Grandfather Christopher, retir- 
|ig, left his business to his three sons. He 
eturned to the fatherland with his wife, 
bey died there within a month of each 
'ther. The brothers moved the carnival 
Iquipment to Hastings-on-Hudson, started 
Little Coney Island," operated it with some 

success. Later they moved to Clason Point, 
sold out. 

"I never monkeyed around the parks 
much," George says, "because I didn't like 
that kind of life." 

George Raft, dancer, began winning tro- 
phies with and without partners at the 
Audubon Ballroom, Corrigan Hall, the Clar- 
endon, the Dance Caprice in Brooklyn. 

"I started to click at the Audubon," he 
says. "I did solo numbers. Eccentric rou- 
tines. I was about twenty-one when I 
started winning. A couple of years later I 
was picking up extra money with stage en- 

"They had a colored band at Audubon. I 
entered contests staged by Willie Hardy, the 
manager, on Tuesday and Thursday nights. 
One night a man named Taps, who was in 
the music business, saw me. He offered to 
get me regular engagements at theaters, and 
I told him to go ahead. 

"Pretty soon I was getting as high as a 
hundred dollars a week making the theaters, 
dance halls and clubs. I had what I wanted 
at last, and I gave up everything else and 
concentrated on dancing." 

He toured the country, playing leading 
theaters, thrilled to see his name in lights. 
As his fame grew his salary mounted, and 
soon he was given the vaudevillian's chance 
of chances, booking at the Palace Theater on 
Broadway. He was billed over Ben Bernie, 
Paul Whiteman, Ted Lewis and other stars. 
For seventeen weeks, as his name became a 
bright-light byword, he appeared in four 
places a day, netted himself nearly fifteen 
hundred dollars a week. 

"I worked at the Rivoli Theater, at another 
theater in 'The City Chap,' a play, at the El 
Fey Club run by the late Larry Fay, and at 
the Parody Club," George says. "People be- 
gan yelling 'Hi, Georgie' at me when they 
passed me on Broadway, and I was where I 
wanted to go." 

He'd done it all by himself, just as he'd 
promised. In a locality a few blocks from 
the apartment where he'd been born in very 
modest circumstances, a few miles from the 
school and the basement bed he'd deserted 
at fourteen, he was a public figure — a celeb- 
rity with a vague background hidden by the 
lights of a wide, wild street. 

IN 1923, when still climbing toward his goal, 
he met Grace Mulrooney, daughter of a pro- 
bation officer at Welfare Island. After a 
friendship of several months they drove to 
Wilkes-Barre, Pa., where he had an engage- 
ment to dance, and were married. 

Two years later, without the establishment 
of a home intervening, they separated be- 
cause of differences in outlook as to friends 
and social activities. 

It was in 1926 that George reached the 
peak of his popularity as a dancer. He 
toured England, received the highest salary 
ever paid to a dancer up to that time. He got 
a tremendous kick out of this reception. 

"I think," he told me, with the echo of that 
applause in his ears, "that I began to feel I 
was too good. That I could go on forever, 
making more and more money." 

He returned to Broadway to find that the 
soles of his popularity were wearing thin. 
The pay-off boys had forgotten his ability, 
his acclaim. He was offered, and offended 
by, a smaller salary than he had received in 
England. He admits that he couldn't take 
it. He staged a one-man strike. 

George was on strike for two years, while 
Broadway already began to feel the ap- 
proach of the financial debacle. For nothing 
can change George Raft if he feels he's right. 
That includes dynamite and the United 
States Supreme Court. He investigated the 
running of sundry race horses at Saratoga, 
Aquaduct and Miami. He studied the inte- 
riors of railroad trains on several different 
lines. Travel made him an authority on cli- 
matic conditions. He was always expecting 
someone to come up and say: 

"Hi, Georgie! You'd better come back and 
hoof for me." 

He wasn't annoyed by such propositions. 
The boys who had extended the glad hand 
along Broadway began looking straight 
ahead or in the other direction as George 
marched by. "Hi, Georgie!" became a mock- 
ing echo. 

"I took stock of myself," says George. "I 
said, 'Georgie, you're just as good as you 
ever were. But something's gone wrong. If 
they think you're slipping, it's time to find 
yourself another career.' r 

(Continued on page 90) 




Glamour belongs to Hollywood, but 
it can belong to you — if you want 
to be the woman other women envy 

GLAMOUR GIRLS— I think that one 
thing we all have in common is the 
desire to be glamorous, to be one of 
those lucky girls who carry an aura of 
glamour with them everywhere they go. 
Glamour is such an elusive quality that we 
don't know just what it is, but we can defi- 
nitely recognize it when we see it. With the 
true zeal of the scientist, I started tracking 
it down; and with the aid of Ann Sothern 
and Olivia De Havilland I discovered that 
there are two ways of acquiring it. Ann did 
it by developing a new artificial personality, 
and Olivia by simply remaining herself. 
And they're letting me give you the benefit 
of all their experiences. 

Ann realized with a cool detachment that 
she was a very pretty girl. She had a cute 
little baby face with no particular distinc- 
tion to it, a lot of charm, but definitely no 
glamour. Obviously, something had to be 
done. Look at the study in glamour that is 
Ann now, and you can see that she did 

First, she lightened her hair. Then she 
saw that that wasn't the answer. Glamour 
isn't just a matter of hair or eyes or color 
of rouge. It's a combination of your own 
basic personality and the dramatization of 
your features. She also saw that it wasn't 
something she could do overnight, because 
it isn't all done by make-up, but rather from 
the inside out. 

For a frankly artificial personality and 
glamour, the first thing to be done is to de- 
velop your good points and kill the bad ones. 
Nervous habits, for example, are sure to de- 
stroy your glamour. The insidious part 

If you're Olivia De Havilland's type, 
you'll be smart enough to know why you 
shouldn't try to change yourself 

If you're the Ann Sothern type, you'll 
take your lipstick and eyebrow pencil 
in hand, and make yourself over 

The right flick of the polish brush— 
and Connie Bennett has smart long nails 


about such habits is that you don't realize 
you have them. Twisting a strand of your 
hair, playing with beads or rings, patting 
the back of your head— all such gestures are 
made unconsciously. You'd better ask a 
member of your family (they're always so 
brutally frank) and have him tell you of 
little mannerisms or habits of yours that an- 
noy him. Then get rid of them. Watch your 
voice and manner of speaking, and don't talk 
too much — chattering destroys glamour. Im- 
prove your posture, and the way you walk. 
Ann says that your new personality 
should be part and parcel of you. You 
should develop it to fit your type and to 
improve yourself. If you're a large girl, for 
example, it's absurd to develop a kittenish 
personality and think you're getting glamour 
that way. "Don't copy anyone else," says 


Ann, "but develop your own personality." 
You can be frankly artificial on the out- 
side. You can paint over the outlines of 
your mouth, you can arch your brows in an 
exaggerated manner; but the important thing 
to remember is to let the artificiality stay on 
the outside. Don't let it get into your soul. 
Underneath all her sophistication and 
glamour Ann is as sincere and honest as a 
child — a quality that makes for charm. 

IN developing your new artificial personality, 
dramatize one feature. It can either be your 
best point or what you consider your worst. 
Katharine Hepburn's cheekbones are not 
beautiful, but by accenting them she has 
made them fascinating. Merle Oberon lived 
up to her unusual eyes before she changed 
(Continued on page 80) 



ich year Hollywood watches for PHOTOPLAY'S 
ild Medal Award. Once again our readers 
e invited to select the winner. Vote now! 

T'S voting time again — time for you, the 

movie-goers of the nation, to decide which 

was the most outstanding picture pro- 

aced in 1937 — time to speak up and tell the 

orld which picture merits the most distin- 

hshed award in the motion-picture indus- 

y — Photoplay's Gold Medal. 

All the studios produced a number of pic- 

ires which, in the light of history, will be 

?garded as epics. The year ushered in a 

aze of color, too, which must be reckoned 

ith, and comedies are getting faster and 

mnier by the minute. Naturally, the first 

ling that often comes to your mind when 

bu must decide what picture you like best 

the fine performance of the star. But you 

ust also consider the expertness of direc- 

on, the beauty and effectiveness of the pho- 

>graphy, the settings, the realism of the 

ory, the work of the supporting cast. 

To jog your memory we list here outstand- 

ig pictures of 1937. Space does not permit 

s to list every fine picture, and we wish to 

nphasize that any picture released during 

937 may be voted upon. 

We have always pointed with pride to the 

ictures which have won Photoplay's Gold 

ledal in previous years. Not only was each 

[-inner the outstanding picture of the par- 

cular year in which it was chosen, but all 

le winners still rank in the first line of 

niracles of motion pictures." We have great 

lith in the judgment of our readers. 

There are no rules, no restrictions in this 

lection. All you need to do to vote for your 

ivorite picture is to fill out the ballot below 

c write your choice on a slip of paper and 

> s nd it to the Gold Medal Editor, Photoplay, 

\12 East 42nd Street, New York, New York. 

j This shining medal symbolizes the highest 

:onor that can be given a studio. Your 

loice this year helps producers decide what 

j/pe of pictures to make next year. To know 

hat the "public wants" is important to 

/ery producer, as naturally he wants to 

ease you. So — if you had a favorite picture 

iring 1937 (and who didn't) — vote for it! 

"ail your vote today! 








































Adventures of Mar- 
co Polo, The 

Ali Baba Goes to 


Awful Truth, The 

Barrier, The 

Black Legion 

Blossoms on Broad- 

Call It a Day 


Captains Coura- 


Damsel in Distress 

Day at the Races, A 

Dead End 

Easy Living 

Ebb Tide 

Firefly, The 

Fire Over England 

Good Earth, The 

Head Over Heels in 


High, Wide and 

History Is Made at 

Hurricane, The 

I Met Him in Paris 

I'll Take Romance 

It's Love I'm After 

Kid Galahad 

King and the Chorus 
Girl, The 

Knight Without Ar- 

Last Gangster, The 

Last of Mrs. Chey- 
ney, The 

Life of Emile Zola 

Lost Horizon 

Love Is News 

Make Way for To- 

Marked Woman 

May time 

Merry -Go -Round of 

Night Must Fall 

Nothing Sacred 

One In A Million 

100 Men and a Girl 


Perfect Specimen 

Plough and the 
Stars, The 

Prince and the Pau- 
per, The 

Prisoner of Zenda 

Quality Street 

Road Back, The 


Second Honeymoon 

Stella Dallas 

Stage Door 

Star is Born, A 

Souls at Sea 

Shall We Dance 


Swing High, Swing 

They Won't Forget 



Three Smart Girls 

Victoria the Great 

Vogues of 1938 

Wake Up And Live 

Wee Willie Winkie 

Wife, Doctor And 

Woman Chases 




In my opinion the picture named below is the 
best motion picture production released in 1937 




Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 

(Continued jrom page 51) 

never fired the thing but felt it brought 
him good luck on his hunting trips. 
Now, whenever a batch of weapons is 
brought in to the local sergeant's desk, 
Clark goes down and looks it over. It's 
a slim hope but he still thinks he may 
find his missing gun among the cap- 
tured arsenals. . . . 

The Basil Rathbones tell us that in 
building their new house they let the 
servants plan their own. quarters. The 
cook said her only requirement was a 
kitchen with only one door, which 
would open outward. . . . 

RKO's Joan Woodbury, ill with the 
flu, came back after three days, raging 
fever and all, because she didn't want 
to delay production. But the weight she 
had lost forced the company to hold 
shooting another day while all her 
clothes were refitted; this tired her so 
she had a relapse. . . . 

Margo and husband Francis Lederer 
say they'll have an "important an- 
nouncement" soon. It will be that they 
are planning to do a legitimate stage 
play together. . . . 

That Wayne Morris-Priscilla Lane ro- 
mance is one of those "don't-let-'em- 
kid-you" things, sponsored by his 
studio. He's still too intrigued by 
Eleanor Powell, although she won't wear 
the ring he gave her on the correct fin- 
ger. . . . 

Anna May Wong took a complete set 
of 16mm movies of Shanghai just a 
week before hostilities started there. 
Her idea was a purely sentimental one, 
but now the reels of film have historical 
significance and are worth a good deal 
of money. A big studio is offering to 
release them as a news-travelogue. . . . 

And as an example of the way rumor 
builds on a Hollywood lot: we were on 
the south side of a studio property last 
week and heard that a tall and very 
handsome Kentucky Colonel was visit- 
ing Sally Eilers. When we got to her 
sound stage on the north side, we dis- 
covered the visitor was her four-year- 
old son, Harry Joe Brown, Jr., youngest 
Kentucky Colonel in the world. . . . 

Fickle Fan 

L-ESAR ROMERO tells this one on 
himself. At a recent preview an auto- 
graph fan hastily shoved book and pen- 
cil into Romero's obliging hand. Just 
as the pencil was poised for signing 
someone yelled, "Oh look, Clark Gable!" 
Like a shot the book and pencil were 
snatched from Cesar's hands and there 
he stood— and no one in sight. 

Charity and Chickens 


IG RUMANN, who has played many 
a villain, role on the screen, is really 
just a softie at heart. Take that recent 
case of his Jap gardener. 

When the man came to Rumann with 
the complaint that he was getting too 
old to do heavy gardening work and 
would have to give it up, the actor drew 
him into friendly conversation. He dis- 
covered that the Jap's ambition was to 
live on a chicken farm. So Rumann 
next purchased a twenty-acre chicken 
farm on the outskirts of San Diego, 
packed the Jap gardener, his wife and 
nine daughters, into two cars and, much 
to their surprise, drove them to their 
new home. 

Because Rumann is making it possible 
for the man to repay him out of his 
earnings, Mori, the Jap, has named the 
chicken ranch "Rumann and Mori, Inc." 
But that's just a way the old man has 
of showing his gratitude. 

Short Shots 


\ARY ASTOR in her new Santa 
Monica home . . . Jon Hall will go na- 
tive again in his next picture, and do 
native dances . . . Milton Berle, the 
comedian, will soon open a production 
agency for radio in Hollywood . . . Mae 
West passed out $5000 worth of gifts to 
cast and crew on completion of "Every 
Day's a Holiday" . . . Jean Rogers is 


Time out for a wedding! Work on "College Swing" was 
halted as Betty Grable and Jackie Coogan said "I do." 

At the marriage of Betty Furness to orchestra leader 
Johnny Green, Allan Jones isn't losing his chance to 
kiss the bride. Chic Betty designed her bridal dress 

wearing a five-carat emerald engage- 
ment ring from Danny Winkler, her 
agent . . . Don Ameche selected the 
University of Iowa's beauty queens for 
their year book . . . Hedy LaMarr 
(Metro's new rave) sold that new Ford 
she bought and has taken to an expen* 
sive town car equipped with colored 
chauffeur. . . . 

That 20th Century - Fox dramatic 
school is turning 'em into real actresses: 
(1) Marjorie Weaver (2) Jayne Regan, 
lead in "Thank You, Mr. Moto" (3) 
Lynn Bari, second lead in "The Baron- 
ess and the Butler." All within a 
month, too. . . . 

Lee Tracy is glad about that New 
York play he's doing, "The Gag Stays 
In" . . . Sonja Henie has taken up roller 
skating . . . Don Wilson, radio an- 
nouncer, has signed another picture 
contract with Universal . . . Jane With- 
ers spends her spare time in the Holly- 
wood dime stores . . . The romance be- 
tween John King and Frances Robinson 
goes on ablaze. . . . 

Bruce Cabot's jaunt into the desert 
had his studio frantic. They needed him 
for retakes but couldn't locate him . . . 
If you heard that yarn about Lili Da- 
mita and Errol Flynn feuding at Chico 
location, with Lili leaving in a huff, you 
can forget it. Lili left to oversee a 
Caesarian operation on her husband's 
African Lion dog, "Stella," during which 
seven puppies were born. . . . 

Jimmie Stewart had a close call at 
March Field air show, when he took 
off in the path of three of the Army's 
best stunt flyers at maneuvers . . . 
Nancy Brill was a courtesy guest at 
that studio dramatic school which she 
ran down in the papers. . . . 

Freddie Bartholomew edited an issue 
of the Hollywood Children's Hospital 
paper for them . . . Bing Crosby pro- 
moted that charity football game staged 
between his Alma Mater, Gonzaga, and 
Loyola in Los Angeles, December 5th 
. . . Phil Baker is settling permanently 
in Hollywood. He has leased the house 
vacated by Walter Winchell. . . . 

Ilona Massey, Metro's new Hungarian 
singer, found an old conservatory of 
music pal of her Vienna days singing 
in a chorus at her studio. His name is 
Ed Constantine . . . Don't let anyone 

tell you Leo Carrillo really woii 
like to take those Governor rumoij 
riously. . . . 

Few of Jeanette MacDonald's H 
wood friends knew she was the nj 
of a Greensboro, N. C, football 
. . . Claire Trevor gets a chance atl 
dom in her next picture . . . Mrs. 
Oakie is serious about publishing 
magazine for dog lovers . . . It's] 
money in Hollywood that Charlie C 
lin, when he sells his rights in 
will never appear on the screen a 


Big Fine Doin's 

-LARK GABLE: Good old C 
who for many years contritely pi 
every role shoved his way, at 
has his back up over a script whicr. 
caused his studio a major head: 
"Test Pilot," announced as his next 
ture many months ago, is still being 
nounced for "immediate" produc 
with Myrna Loy and Spencer Trac 
the supporting cast. Meanwhile, C 
demands more rewrites to polish 
his role for "Test Pilot" and remair 
his valley ranch enjoying life. 

Robert Taylor: Bob will be bad 
Hollywood at Barbara Stanwyck's 
by the time you read this. It's Barbc 
hunch that Bob will want to settle d> 
to a retired sort of "gentleman's ex 
ence" on his newly completed (by I 
bara in Bob's absence) ranch home, 
unless Babs is all wrong, Hollyw 
won't be seeing much of this Ta; 
idol in the after-dark night spots. 

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogf 
Fred Astaire popped up with an un 
pected talent this month when he 
cretly left Hollywood with his wife 
a week's hunting trip to Mexico. Fi 
there he flew directly to New Y 
where he has been visiting and see 
the sights. Fred will be starting w 
on his new costarring picture with G 
ger Rogers immediately after the f 
of the year. Ginger Rogers, keeping 
of the public eye in Hollywood, 
been winding up "Having Wondei 
Time" and visiting the homes of 
friends. (Continued on page 


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Ze Name Eez Spooks 

(Continued jrom page 31) 

American might have ignored the let- 
ter, or answered it with a forbidding 
note of regret. Lily liked its frankness, 
its obvious sincerity. She decided that, 
odd as his gesture might seem to her, 
it was typically American. And if only 
to explore the American personality, she 
would investigate further. 

Tiri phoned the young man, pro- 
nounced him O.K., and, at Lily's behest, 
invited him and his wife to tea. Now 
they are "very nice friends." 

In a dozen ways her happy adjust- 
ment to a less ceremonious world makes 
itself apparent. For daytime wear at 
home she has adopted the Californian 
custom of slacks, because "nevaire I 
feel so comfortable." When, somewhat 
fearfully, the suggestion was made that 
she do a hot dance in her first picture, 
she replied firmly: "I like." She posed 
for what is technically known as leg art 
and, when for some reason the pictures 
weren't used, demanded to know what 
was wrong with the Pons legs. 

L XPONENT of a sophisticated art, she 
remains a creature of nstinct. In her 
reactions, she suggests the child of a 
primitive race, eager, spontaneous, un- 
touched by the complexities of modern 
life. The glow of a sunset or a visit to 
the circus — where, regardless of a mil- 
lion-dollar voice, she consumes with 
gusto peanuts, popcorn and pink lemon- 
ade — brings her home sparkling with 
excitement and filled at the same time 
with a deep content. 

She loves the vivid, life-giving colors. 
"Dress Lily in yellow and she's happy," 
they say at the studio. In the wardrobe 
room, she once caught sight of a crimson 
cape, hanging on a rack of antiques. 
Nothing would do her but to use that 
cape to protect her from the drafts of 
the set. Ordinarily, she forgets the 
necessity for such precautions, so that 
someone's forever trailing her with,. 
"Here's your wrap, Lily." But during 
this era she needed no monitor. Draft 
or no draft, wherever Lily went, the red 
cape went with her. 

She's frankly superstitious. Thirteen 
is her number, and though she doesn't 
mind having fun poked at the attach- 
ment, she clings to it. She was born 
on April 13, and clapped her hands in 
glee on discovering that John Howard, 
her current leading man, was born on 
the same day. She likes to start all im- 
portant new ventures on the 13th. Her 
chair on the set is adorned with her 
name and a small 13, and every year 
the state of Connecticut issues a special 
license plate, L P-13. She wears a 
bracelet, the gift of Kostelanetz, hung 
with thirteen charms. 

This same elemental strain is evident 
in her feeling for animals, more evident 
in their feeling for her. Many of us 
are animal lovers. Few have the gift to 
win the friendship of animals, effort- 
lessly, as Lily does. 

They Ye making a picture at RKO 
called "Bringing Up Baby." 

"Baby" is a leopard and plays one of 
the leads. Assertedly tame, he is yet 
unsuccessful in dispelling a certain 
prejudice against him and, when not 
actively on duty before the cameras, 
he's kept in a cage. 

Lily went to call on him. "Be care- 
ful," they warned her. "You never can 
tell what a leopard may do." 

Lily opened the cage door and said, 
"Nice cat." The leopard bounced straight 
into her lap and lay there, doing what- 
ever a leopard does when he wants to 


COCKATOO figured in one of her 
pictures. "He's got a mean disposition 
and a mean set of claws," his owner an- 
nounced, "so keep away from him." 

Lily happened not to be present when 
the announcement was made, and, by 
the time she arrived, the cockatoo had 
been forgotten in the press of other mat- 
ters. Being called for her first scene, 
she appeared with the mean-tempered 
bird perched on her shoulder. 

Eyes widened, jaws dropped. "Watch 
your step, Lily," they murmured, while 
the cockatoo's owner approached her 

"What eez eet?" she cried, impatient 
of so much mystery. 

"It's the bird. Miss Pons," his tiptoe- 
ing owner explained. "He's liable to 
hurt you." 

"Pooh!" said Lily, and marched past 
him to her place on the set. 

She and the cockatoo became such 
friends that John Cromwell, directing 
the picture, bought and presented him 
to her. The cockatoo lives outside the 
window of her bedroom in Connecticut. 
And his owner was right. He's an ugly 
character, screeching and snapping at 
all who come near him. Only to Lily 
does he show his softer side. 

A charming story is told of a concert 
she once gave in Buenos Aires. In the 
middle of a song, a titter ran through 
the audience. Unruffled, continuing to 
sing, Lily glanced about for the cause 
of the disturbance, and found that a cat 
had ensconced himself on the piano. 
She picked him up, settled him in the 
crook of her arm, stroked his fur and 
finished her song, which to the cat must 
have sounded like a lullaby, for by the 
time it was over he was fast asleep. 

It's safe to say that no audience ever 
found a song and its setting more en- 
chanting. But, in the wings, those who 
didn't know Miss Pons waited for the 

thunderbolts. They heard instead a peal 
of laughter, as she lifted the intruder 
high, looked into his blinking eyes and 
spoke to him in French. "Congratula- 
tions, monsieur. You have courage. Me, 
I should not have dared without a re- 

Her present four-footed retinue con- 
sists of two cats and two dogs, whom 
she was unwilling to leave with the 
caretaker in Connecticut. Three of them 
she acquired by gift and purchase. The 
fourth had the wit to adopt her. 

She was returning from one of her 
beloved walks through the woods near 
her Connecticut home, when out of a 
dilapidated barn ran a white-pawed 
black kitten and fell into step beside 
her. She picked him up and carried 
him back to the barn, where for all she 
knew his owner might come hunting for 
him. A few minutes later she looked 
down to find the black tail waving calm- 
ly at her feet again. Three times she 
carried him back, three times he pur- 
sued her. At last she gave it up. He 
escorted her to her doorstep and planked 
himself down outside. She knew that a 
saucer of milk would finish what fate 
had begun. "What can I do?" she 
shrugged. '"E 'as made up 'ees mind 
to be White Socks Pons." 


rHITE SOCKS— known for obscure 
reasons as Meena — holds a special place 
in her heart. She tells stories about 
him, as one tells them of a favorite 
child. "Last night I wake up. I 'ear 
scr-r-ratch, scr-r-ratch on ze window. 
I say: 'Come in, Meena.' 'E jumps on ze 
bed. I talk wis 'eem, I play wis 'eem, I 
comfort 'eem. First 'e purr, zen 'e push 
me. I say: 'What do you want, Meena? 
Do you know what you want?' I put him 
sroo ze window, and I go to sleep. I 'ear 
scr-r-ratch, scr-r-ratch. I take 'eem in, 
I comfort 'eem again. 'E push me. Zis 

is too much. I get mad. But mad. 
put 'eem under ze arm, I take 'ee;' 
downstairs, I open ze door, I srow hi) 
in ze garden. 'Go 'unt,' I tell 'eem." 

When she settles down in Connecticu 
as she ultimately plans to do, she wan 
to make her home a refuge for animal 
Her dreams all center round this hom 
of hers. She'd like to make three moi 
pictures. She'd like to give five morj) 
years to her career. Then, without ani 
lingering farewells, she wants to qui'i 
retiring in "Lucia," as she made he, 
professional debut in "Lucia." 

The fact that she's built in Americ 
is evidence of what America means t 
her. Her house has given her the sens 
of stability and permanency that she' 
always longed for. " 'Ere I 'ang my 'at,( 
she said when it was finished. Sta; 
spends her spare time at auction sales; 
frequently overbidding herself in he* 
eagerness, and laughing instead o< 
growling when she finds she's been he 
own competitor. 

The house is French Colonial, set ir 
ten wooded acres, and supplemented bj 
a guest house, because she loves visi- 
tors. She also admits that she wants 
four children, if possible "and no nurses 
I take care of zem myself." 


Kay Francis gazes soulfully up at he-man Pat O'Brien who, in Warners 
"Women Are Like That," at last gets his long denied wish to go romantic 

HICH brings up the matter of t 
husband. Lily refuses to talk about her 
personal relationship with Andre Kos- 
telanetz. Her marriage, she contends 
firmly, is her own business. Then, soft- 
ening, she lifts her lashes. "So much 
I tell you," she murmurs. "Some day 
I marry." 

Whom she will marry is no secret, 
despite the refusal of either to discuss 
the subject. Kostelanetz is conducting 
the music for "Hitting a New High." ' 
To see them together when business 
brings him to the set tells the whole 
story. Her dressing room is bright with 
the roses he sends her every day. "They 
talk in French," grinned one observer, 
"which for all practical purposes puts 
them on a desert isle. But I do remem- 
ber what cheri means, and I do notice 
that every sentence begins and winds up 
with cheri, not to mention a few dropped 
in along the line." 

Kostelanetz's frequent trips to New 
York are marked by an unbreakable 
rite. At seven exactly, each is at the 
telephone. One evening he calls her, 
the next evening she calls him. 

He had come to bid her good-by one 
day on his way to the airport to catch 
a plane for New York. The company 
had moved in the course of the after- 
noon from one set to another, so Lily 
and Kostelanetz went to her dressing 
room on the deserted set to make their 
farewells in peace. Vivienne, Lily's six- 
year-old niece, watched them go off and, 
in an idle moment, followed, shot the 
bolt of the dressing-room door and re- 
turned to her mother. 

It was a good twenty minutes later 
when someone caught the sound of far- 
off shouting and pounding, and traced 
it to its source. With just enough time 
to make his plane, traffic permitting, 
Kostelanetz grabbed his hat and ran. 
Vivi, now that her sin had caught up 
with her, showed a tendency to tears. 

Aunt Lily "comforted" her. "When I 
was six," she declared, "I would have 
done the same." 

"But if he misses the plane," her sis- 
ter fretted. 

"Well, then, he'll come back — " 

Vivi caught at her chance to make 
amends. "To see Spooks," she guessed, 
smiling up through her tears. 


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• I 



"It's brisk — it's tangy! 
Refreshing as a hasty 
shower! And good? You 
never tasted anything 
smoother, more luscious ! 
Beeman's flavor has 
something mighty 
special about it, 

"But naturally! 
Cast your eye over 
that Beeman's pack- 
age. See that triple wrap 
— that airtight foil? Per- 
fect protection for Bee- 
man's delicious freshness 
and flavor. No wonder 
Beeman's always tastes 
superbly fresh and 

Hollywood, Hunter — and the High Seas 

and consists of four members. First, 
the Alley Cat, christened Coca-Cola; 
second, the well-bred Siamese, Tah- 
quitz, known as Quitzy, and proud 
mamma of several kittens; third, an 
adorable Welsh Terrier, Callan Fach, 
which is Welsh for Little Sweetheart, 
but the name to which that dog re- 
sponds is anything that sounds like Cal; 
fourth, a youthful Dalmatian, Suzy, who 
is Kennel Dog to the establishment. 
And a very clever, alert kennel dog, 

Since his boyhood in South Africa Ian 
has managed to crowd quite a lot of 
adventures into his life. He has a deep, 
Scottish sense of humor which hands 
him many chuckles, especially when 
things go wrong. Although he has be- 
come so popular on the screen— and on 
the stage — as a romantic actor, to me 
he is a grand comedian, and handles 
light comedy scenes better than any- 
one since our celebrated Charles Haw- 
trey. Film audiences who have laughed 
at his performances in "Call It a Day - ' 
will probably agree with me on this. 


ORN in Kenilworth, near Cape Town, 
on June 13, 1900, Ian Hunter was the 
baby of a family of seven brothers and 
sisters. Five, counting Ian, are alive 
today. His two elder brothers, Ken- 
neth and Colin, are in Hollywood with 
him now. 

One of the oddest adventures in Ian 
Hunter's life is the strange fact that he 
had to be introduced to his own eldest 
brother, Kenneth, when they were both 
an leave during the War. Kenneth left 
South Africa when Ian was still a child, 
and the two tall brothers never met 
until somebody said, casually, to a uni- 
formed Ian — indicating another uni- 
formed man who smiled at him — "Oh, 
by the way, this is your brother Ken- 
neth." The brothers looked at each 
other, realizing that they would have 
passed shoulder to shoulder in the street 
without having any idea of their rela- 

"Hullo!" said Ian. 

"Hullo!" said Kenneth. And they 
shook hands, solemnly. 

One by one, the Hunter family left 
South Africa, until Ian was left alone 
in Kenilworth, at a house on Kalk Bay, 
which he says was so like Santa Monica 
that he had quite a shock when he first 
beheld the Californian ocean town. He 
spent most of his time sailing in Kalk 
Bay with the Malay fishermen who 
became his friends; school at St. An- 
drew's, in Grahamstown, filled the rest 
of his existence. Then, at Christmas, 
1914, he followed the rest of the family 
to England, traveling all by himself 
through what he describes as a "ter- 
rific voyage," arriving to find the War 
in full swing. 

He went to school at Aldenham, and 
stayed there until 1917, when he decided 
to tell a lie about his age, and so man- 
aged to join King Edward's Horse. All 
his life Ian has been keen on riding; 
and, as he was as tall at seventeen as he 
is today, he did not find it difficult to 
get into the army. 

The beginning of the year 1919 found 
three of the Hunter brothers in Lon- 
don, living in the same boardinghouse 
in Notting Hill Gate, and busy hunting 
for jobs on the stage. Kenneth and 
Colin had done some acting already; to 
Ian it was something quite new, but he 
did not see why he should not have a 
shot at it, since the others found it a 
way of earning a living. But he said to 

(Continued from page 32) 

himself: — "I must be careful. We can't 
have three Hunters all on the stage at 
once. That would be an awful mess. 
I shall have to change my name!" 

So when his first professional engage- 
ment came along it was as Ian Mac- 
Donald that the future screen star burst 
on the public. Hidden away among his 
treasures, he has some programs that 
mention Ian MacDonald as one of the 
gentlemen of the "also-ran" variety, 
whose names appear at the end of the 
list of characters in a play. Only when 
Colin Hunter had started on a trip 
round the world and Kenneth had gone 
to New York to appear on Broadway, 
did Ian feel he would be wise to use his 
own name in the theater. From that 
time on, he became Ian Hunter. 


VLTHOUGH one of Ian's most charm- 
ing characteristics is a vague casualness 
that simply refuses to let anything be- 
come a worry, he has managed to get 
a great deal of amusement out of his 
up-and-down stage and screen career. 
It has not been plain sailing, by any 
means, but Ian has wandered along 
cheerily, feeling at his best when things 
have been at their worst. He's like 
that. And Cash, mercifully, has the 
same happy temperament. 

He did a good deal of work on tour, 
in England, and finally landed in Lon- 
don through the astuteness of Basil 
Dean, the stage producer who gave 
playgoers "A Bill of Divorcement," "Au- 
tumn Crocus," "The Constant Nymph," 
and "Call It a Day," in which Ian gives 
such a grand performance on the screen. 

He had just finished making the film 
version of the latter when I was last in 
Hollywood, and he said to me, "I wish 
I could have played that part for Basil 
Dean on the stage. It's a gorgeous char- 
acter. If you get a chance, ask him to 
have a look at me in it, when it gets 
to London, and remind him of the days 
when he gave me my first London job 
in 'Loyalties,' in which he handed me 
no less than three different speaking 
parts, to say nothing of the roles of two 
silent policemen." 


HEN Ian was in "Loyalties," and 
some other plays that followed it at the 
same theater, he began to collect a lit- 
tle money, which he decided to spend 
on things he really liked. One of his 
first purchases was a car. 

English actors, at the time Ian first 
went on the stage, did not indulge in 
cars unless they had reached really high 
positions; in short, a car was a luxury in 
"The Profession." So, bursting with 
pride, he drove the vehicle to the stage 
door, before a matinee, and presented 
"My Car" to the rest of the company. 

It sat outside all through the perform- 
ance; and then, as the day was nice and 
summery, Mr. Hunter felt it was a sin 
not to give some of his pals in the show 
a run, just to prove how well the new 
possession worked. So into the car 
climbed Ian, Edmond Breon, and Ron- 
ald Squire. 

"We've got oceans of time, chaps, so 
why not go up to Hampstead Heath?" 
said Ian, gaily. 

To Hampstead Heath they went, Ian 
driving his car with a beaming grin on 
his face, and a pretence of "This-is- 
nothing-new-to-??ie" in his manner. 

To get to Hampstead Heath from the 
theater section of London, you have to 
drive up a decidedly steep hill. Ian 
had his car going at twenty miles an 
hour. It wouldn't do more than twenty, 

anyway. At that pace he started I 
climb the hill. He kept the car at 
maximum speed, hoped he would get | 
the top, found he couldn't, changed ge 
abruptly — and the engine seized! Th 
had to sit and wait until the engi 
cooled down — which took a long, wea 
time — and then the only thing to do w 
to turn right around and beat it back 
the theater, where they were all thr 
long overdue. 

They arrived to find a frantic sta 
manager telling understudies to g : 
made up; and were greeted with ; 
agitated chorus of "Where have yii 
three been?" 

"Oh, just trying out my new call 
said Ian, waving a careless hand. "Doil 
worry, we'll be on in time." 

When I drove with him in Hollywocl 
in his swift, silent dark-blue monster I 
a car, we talked about those old days I 
London. I asked Ian if he remembenl 
a certain wet and greasy night whe| 
during the drive home, he put on h 
brakes suddenly, and skidded rig] 
around an "island," which is a thing v 
have in England in the middle of ti 
road for pedestrians to cling to wh« 
they want to prevent motorists fro 
committing manslaughter. 

Ian shook his head at my questio 
He had forgotten the skidding episod 
"What happened? Did I smash in 
something?" he wanted to know. 

"You didn't," I told him. "You ju 
shouted — 'Oh, I like that!', drove bac 
to the other side, and did the skid a 
over again!" 


HEN Ian went to Hollywood in 19c 
he was making his third visit to Amer 
ica. After his first voyage to New Yor 
in 1925, for a stage play, he hurrie 
back home and married Casha Pringli! 
With Casha and their two-year-old soi 
Jolyon, Ian returned to New York i 
1928; that was the time he played i 
one of the first talkies, called "Synco 
pation." At that time, the screen ha> 
not discovered Ian's real charm; so h 
appeared as a terribly heavy "heavy,t' 
and says he was lousy. 

Hollywood took a good view of Mi. 
Hunter's work in that film, however! 
offers came along, but Ian wanted to g< 
home. So off he went; and his next ad- 
venture was — buying a boat. He hac 
been longing for a boat ever since h< 
had left South Africa. At last he sav 
the one he wanted; twenty-three fee, 
long, with a motor and a wee cabin i 
just large enough for Casha and him- 
self to go sailing and fishing whenevei 
the mood caught them. "Etain" was 
the name of that memorable boat. 

When I asked Ian to tell me what he 
considers the best time he ever spent 
in his life, he did not hesitate. "That's 
easy! It was the time when I had no 
work, no money, and a snowstorm of 
bills. Cash and I took the boat, and 
went roaring up and down the South 
Coast of England, darting into queer 
little harbors, living on eggs and bacon 
and the fish we caught, enjoying every 
minute of every day. Bills? Let 'em 
wait, was our motto. Work? Let it 
come and find me. Gosh, I can see Cash 
armed with the frying pan, waiting for 
me to haul a mackerel straight out of 
the sea — yank — and slap it into the pan 
to make a breakfast for a king. Best 
times like that take a whale of a lot of 
beating, believe me." 

Which seems to sum up Ian Hunter, 
the man who has spent his life sailing 



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her type from the exotic beauty and 
glamour she affected to a more natural 
one. When you think of Garbo, you re- 
member her eyes; Dietrich dramatized 
her eyebrows; Crawford accented her 

If you've been wearing just a touch 
of lipstick in a dark, dull color because 
you think your mouth is too large or 
ugly, try painting it a bright vivid red; 
deliberately dramatize it and see if you 
don't look much more striking and un- 
usual that way. A pretty face with no 
vivid feature seldom stands out or is in- 
teresting. Dramatize a mobile feature 
like your eyes or your mouth, 
rather than your hair. 

Ann dramatized her round face by 
arching her brows high, for the 
straight-across brow shortened her face. 
She bowed her mouth full in the center 
and dropped the line of the middle of 
her lower lip. 

To guard her very fair skin, she uses 
a rich protective cream that can be di- 
luted to any desired consistency with a 
special skin tonic. It safeguards her 
skin against sunburn and freckles and 
is the ideal foundation for her outdoor 
activities. For evening wear it gives a 
velvety finish to her arms and neck. 

Clothes have a lot to do with develop- 
ing your new personality. Ann says 
that if you've worn girlish clothes and 
simple naive dresses all your life, and 
then suddenly walk into a party of all 
your friends with a long tight-fitting 
sophisticated black dress, you're only 
going to be laughed at. You can't 
change your type too suddenly. It must 
be a gradual, subtle change, not only 
in your clothes but in your make-up, 
in your mannerisms and in you, your- 
self, in order that the change be really 
a part of yourself. Ann worked faith- 
fully to develop her personality and 
sophistication; she's no longer just a 
pretty, attractive little girl, but a woman 
of glamour. And you can do it, too. 


is a result of her natural loveliness and 
charm. She typifies girlish beauty and 
unsophistication, which has a glamour 
all its own. She is completely un- 

Olivia says for her type that fresh- 
ness is such an important element of 
beauty and glamour that she never lets 
anyone see her when she is tired and 
exhausted. There's no glamour in 
circles under the eyes or a mouth 
drooping from fatigue. She restores 
her energy by quick alternated hot and 
cold showers followed by a cologne 
spray. She uses nothing but lipstick 
and eyebrow pencil for daytime make- 
up, and her lipstick follows the exact 
lines of her mouth. 

Olivia's beauty treatments consist of 
simple daily care. She leaves her eye- 
brows in their natural lines and says 
that a tiny eyebrow brush gives her a 
better brow line than if she used 
tweezers. She brushes her lashes also, 
to help promote their growth. Even 

from page 70) 

her fingernails carry out her natui 
ness, for she uses natural colo 

There we have two girls utterly c 
ferent in type, two separate person; 
ties, two types of beauty; but both h. 
glamour — one a frankly artifi. 
glamour, the other natural. Dec 
which type you want to be, and if 3 
need any advice in obtaining your o 
glamour, I'll be glad to help you. 

HELPING HANDS— Good groomi 
of course, is an integral part of glamo 
and hands are such a vital point 
grooming that I've been keeping 
eagle eye on everyone's hands a 
fingernails, and I've found that e 
tremely long fingernails are sm. 
again. Constance Bennett accents 1 
hands and the length of her nails 
painting the nails a deep color a 
carrying the polish out from her cuti. 
to the very tip. She doesn't even lea 
the half-moon white. Mrs. Dan 
Zanuck applies her polish the sai 
way. It gives your hands a beautifu 
finished effect. If this is too extrei 
for you, just carry the polish out r 
quite to the tip. This, too, makes yo 
nails look longer and more oval. 

Irene Dunne keeps her hands s( 
and smooth by rubbing a softening hai 
lotion into her hands every night befo 
going to bed. She also told me that si 
never gardens or plays golf or driv 
without gloves, and whenever her han 
are in water she protects them wi 
rubber gloves. 

Ann Sheridan keeps her nails smooi 
by buffing them before applying liqu 
polish. A famous make-up salon 
Hollywood features a nail cement, i 
that if you break your nail or tear 
across, you can very easily cement 
together again and not have the appeal 
ance of your hands marred by a broke 

Jane Wyman used to be a secretar 
before she started her acting caree 
and she gave me a grand tip to pa.< 
on to those of you who spend your tim 
tapping typewriters. She said that he 
main beauty problem was how to kee 
her nails from breaking and the polis 
from chipping off, so she used an extr 
coat of colorless polish over her regula 
polish and carried it out to the ends c 
her nails and around and under th' 

A coating of liquid paraffin over th 
nails before putting on your polish i 
also excellent to keep them from break 
ing or splitting. 

Jane also said that warm cuticle or 
or a cuticle cream massaged into the 
base of the nails made them less brittlt 
and less liable to break. So now there': 
no reason for secretaries to spoil a perv 
fectly good manicure whenever thej 
have a heavy day's work. 

// you wish personal advice on your 
beauty problems, write directly to 
Carolyn Van Wyck, Photoplay maaa- 
zme. 77.11 Sunset Boulevard. Holly- 
^°/'»vii,''- Be certain to enclose a 
STAMPED self-addressed envelope 


creihe noii POLISH 




JT as it a mistake? 

II err those headline tiffs and reconciliations, those ArielCalihan messages, 
those partings and reunions done for publicity? 


by John Barrymore himself, in his candid and honest discussion of Elaine 
liarrie, Ins fourth wife. 


The Reformation of Jane Withers 

(Continued from page 25) 

^ns that such treasured dives, rolls, 
.p-flops and hedgehops are strictly 
boo without special orders. Jane's 

[Uecial orders sent pursuit planes zoom- 
g happily in death-defying aerial con- 
rtions and — no doubt about it — there 
as fun for one and all. 
But, unfortunately, at that very mo- 
ent a plane winged over the horizon 
aring a major general, divisional 
)mmander of the Pacific Coast air 
irce, more or less the Big Boss of 
tings, and quite unaccustomed to any 
olishness. When he saw his command 
itting up the sky his feelings were a 
;t mixed, to put it mildly. With a fall- 
ig heart Jane saw her pals perempto- 
ly plopped into the doghouse — and all 
;cause she had wanted to do them a 

pod turn! 

'S like that, it seems, whenever Jane 
uth has enlargement of the heart, 
aybe the sudden switch from screen 
ampishness to a helping-hand home 
:e is too violent a change, like drink- 
g ice water in the noon sun. At any 
ite, consider the case of the minister's 

He was a wistful little guy, and he 
as hanging around the front of the 
Others' house when Jane first saw him. 
r ide-eyed kids sucking thumbs and 
acing toes in the dust are no unusual 
ght outside the Withers' gate. But this 
le had an unusually forlorn and long- 
ig look on his sad face, so Jane had 
im come into the house. 
It turned out he was as green as paint 
l the culture that really counts — such 
i knowledge of the latest exploits of 
ick Tracy and the gory solution of the 
laming Firebrand Murder Mystery. In 
ct, the kid practically hadn't lived at 
1. Jane was touched. She loaded him 
p with paper-backed novels from her 
vn personal library — Red Barry, Tim 
yler, Annie Rooney and a few choice 
mg-war shockers, and then, with a 
arm feeling of a good deed well done, 
tnt him home. 

iVery soon — in fact, right away — the 
In-lorn kid was back, his face longer 
kan ever. Back with the books. His 
tther, he explained tearfully, was a 
San of the cloth; he didn't approve of 
uch — er lurid fiction — so here they 
tere, and thanks just the same. A 
reat tear welled and spilled on his 

i It was a challenge, nothing less, to 
9ne. Could she stand by and see the 
[tore abundant life stunted by parental 
granny? Well, hardly! So now the kid 
| fast getting caught up on the Devil - 
og Series, thanks to a sort of under- 
iround railway for hot literature, flour- 
[ihing with the co-operation of various 
hauffeurs, maids, cooks and sundry ac- 

> Being a little devil with wings — or 
ttle angel with horns, if you prefer — 
; a strain which is putting Jane on a 
ar with the chameleon on the plaid 

HE Withers recently moved into their 

|ew home out on Sunset Boulevard 
■drting Bel-Air. The new house was 

lane's idea. 
She happened one day by a new 

[model" home, hooked to the side of a 
ill out on Sunset. It was a small, ram- 
ling Mexican ranchhouse type place 
nd it clicked at once with Jane. So 

,iuch so, that she sat down and wrote 
> the real estate company, "I liked your 
ouse very much. It is colossal!" 
Naturally, a salesman called and be- 

' >re the Withers knew it, the house was 

theirs. One of the strongest attractions, 
Jane announced at the time, was the lo- 
cation. It overlooks the campus of the 
University of California at Los Angeles. 
Said Jane, "Fine! I can watch football 

Usually, everything else being equal 
and equable, the Withers, pere and 
mere, follow Jane's lead. Not particu- 
larly because she's the only child and 
they're inclined to spoil her, but be- 
cause the older she grows, the more 
horse sense she seems to develop. They 
count her in on all financial consulta- 
tions and discussions of family prob- 

Jane had been promised a swimming 
pool when the new house became a 
reality. But with the multiplying zoo 
and an eye to the day when additional 
house space would be needed, the pur- 
chase of another adjoining lot seemed 
more important. It was put up to Jane. 
"Let's buy the lot," she said. "Swim- 
ming pool next year." 

When the planting of the new ground 
came up for a decision, Mr. Withers had 
a happy thought. Why not nlant the 
land in a vegetable garden? Oddly 
enough, this ordinarily intriguing sug- 
gestion left Jane cold. She held out for 
flowers — and stubbornly. Her parents 
were puzzled and asked her why. 

"It's right off from the kitchen," Jane 
explained, "and Willie has to look out 
at it all day. She sees vegetables all 
the time in the sink." 

The lot was planted in flowers. "Wil- 
lie" is the Withers' cook, a Southern 
darkey, black as the inside of Mammoth 
Cave. Consideration for Willie's esthetic 
sensibilities is only a small side of 
Jane's expanding heart. When Willie 
left on a visit to Atlanta last year, Jane 
saved up for a new outfit as a going- 
away present, and just the other day 
when Willie was booked for a raise, 
Jane asked her mother if she could be 
the bearer of the glad tidings. 

"Yes," said Mrs. Withers; but a mo- 
ment later regretted saying it. For, lis- 
tening in as Jane broke the news, she 
was horrified to hear her declare, 

" — and pretty soon, Willie, you'll get 
another one, bigger too!" 


O far, Jane's overflowing heart hasn't 
touched the rosy shores of Romance. 
She's taller and a few baby teeth have 
succumbed to the doorknob and string, 
but boys are still just pals. To date, 
her bouts with the opposite sex have 
included a few riding lessons with 
Jackie Searl and one picture where 
she had to kiss Jackie (she blushed like 
a parboiled beet). The only indication 
that any romantic zephyrs stirred 
within her was a "scenario" which Jane 
came out with not long ago. It consisted 
of a succession of terrifying situations, 
in all of which Jackie manfully rescued 
her at the very last moment from ex- 
tremely dreadful fates. 

In delicate situations so far, Jane 
Ruth's intentions have been sterling, but 
the results, frankly, not so hot. 

Just the other day, a photographer 
snapped her with Miss Lola Figland, 
whose strenuous lot is to teach Jane her 
three R's in-between scenes. When the 
shots were printed, they showed Jane 
fullface, as usual, but poor Miss Figland 
drew a disappointing study of the back 
of her neck. 

Jane felt very bad about it all. The 
situation, she felt, called for tact. 

"Never mind," she soothed, "every- 
body will know you anyway because, 
see, that hairpin sticks out just like it 
always does!" 




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In the Palm of Your Hand 

(Continued from page 29) 

THE first thing you should do when you catch cold is — 
I alkalize with Alka-Seltzer. Since it is a recognized 
fact that most colds are accompanied by an over-acid 
condition which may be retarding nature in her battle 
against the complaint, Alka-Seltzer is especially helpful 
because it acts to restore your normal alkaline balance. 
And because Alka-Seltzer contains an analgesic 
(sodium acetyl salicylate) it gives prompt relief from the 
stuffed-up-grippy feeling of a cold. Thus Alka-Seltzer 
gives relief in TWO ways— relief from the distress 
and discomfort of a cold and relief from the excess 
acid condition. 

At the first sign of a cold, just drop one or two Alka- 
Seltzer tablets into a glass of water. When 
they bubble up and dissolve, drink the ^ 
crystal clear, pleasant-tasting solution. It s 
beneficial action starts immediately. Con- 
tinue using Alka-Seltzer according to the 
directions in the package. 

take into consideration a person's race, 
and also the type of work he does. 
Above all, be sure you are seeing the 
natural red or yellow and not a bad 
case of sunburn or a hangover. 

Skin texture is more difficult to de- 
cide upon than color. 

Fine skin is soft and delicately 
woven. It is white in color, and when 
found on any hand, no matter what 
other characteristics may be displayed 
there, it will have a softening influence.- 
If your skin is very fine you may be 
too refined for your own happiness. 

Coarse skin looks rough and is rough 
to the touch. It may be any color but 
if red or yellow the bad characteristics 
of these two colors are increased. What- 
ever the color, coarse skin warns you 
that the person you are reading is a 
good deal more physical than mental. 
Do not, however, confuse elastic skin 
with coarse skin. 

In elastic, or medium skin, the skin 
is soft to the touch but the weave is 
wide. Tyrone Power's hands are a good 
example of the elastic skin, which 
shows, by the way, originality, intelli- 
gence and courage. 

Other noteworthy characteristics of 
the Power hands are: 

NAI LS I— very broad. This shows frank- 
ness, honesty, good health and vitality. 

FINGERS:— short. This indicates that 
Tyrone is impulsive, quick-witted, im- 
patient, and dislikes details. 

FINGERTIPS:— first finger and tip of 
little finger conic, giving Tyrone the 
benefit of the conic qualities such as 
love of beauty, quick perception, the 
ability to feel and play romantic parts 
and an appreciation of the arts. 

The two middle fingers of Tyrone's 
hands are rather square. This makes 
Tyrone exacting in many ways, thor- 
ough in his characterizations. When he 
is too old to play the roles of romantic 
young men he still will be popular as a 
character actor. 

KNUCKLES:— knotty. These knuckles 
cause Tyrone to look before he leaps, 
think at least once before he speaks and 
to think over the thoughts and actions 
of others before he judges them. 

I might add one further comment 
while we are still on the elastic skin. 
Though this type of skin indicates re- 
finement, it also indicates that its pos- 
sessor can adapt himself to conditions. 


lso sold by the glass at all Drug Store Soda Fountains 

HE flexibility of your hands shows 
how adaptable you are. If your hands 
and fingers bend backward easily, you 
can adapt yourself to conditions and 

If your hands are stiff, refusing to 
bend backward, and the fingers are hard 
to open, you are cautious in every move 
you make. You distrust everything new. 
You will not adapt yourself to others. 
However, you of the stiff hands can 
keep your own secrets as well as the se- 
crets of others. You are hard workers 
and whatever money you make will 
come to you through work and thrift. 

The medium-flexible hand is the best 
type to have. This hand opens easily 
and the fingers bend backward when 
pressed. It shows a person well-bal- 
anced in all things. You are neither 
stingy nor too generous. You weigh all 
matters, giving each your careful at- 
tention and, having weighed them, you 
reach a wise and fair decision. 

Now, I want you to note carefully 
how your hands fall on the table. This 

is very important. Let them drop be 
fore you in a natural position. 

If there are wide spaces between a 
your fingers, you are generous to 
fault — unconventional, modern in yov 
viewpoint, Bohemian in your prefer 
ences for people and places, very muc 
of a "good fellow." You cannot han 
onto your money. You are inclined t 
live entirely in the present, forgettin 
that tomorrow must be faced. You ar 
independent in actions and in though: 
Narrow spaces between all the finger 
show you to be well balanced in you 
point of view, careful of your reputa 
tion, reasonably generous but seldor 
foolhardy in your expenditures. Yoi 
prefer to follow rather than to blaz. 
the way. 

When your little finger and first fin- 
gers are widely separated, with the sec- 
ond and third fingers lying clos< 
together, you dare say and do what yov 
please. If occasionally you happen tc 
be indiscreet in your actions, you al- 
ways manage to have an excellent alibi 
If all your fingers are held tightlj 
together, you are probably formal 
stingy, narrow-minded and hard to gel 
along with. You hate new ways oi 
doing things, you dislike any rearrange- 
ments of your daily routine and what- 
ever money you have will come through 
scrimping and saving. 

If your thumb is set low on your hand 
and there is a wide space between it 
and your first finger, you are generous, 
but also independent in every way. 

Another thumb characteristic to check 
up on and remember is whether your 
thumb bends inward toward your palm. 
Alice Faye's hands show a thumb of 
this type, which indicates repression. 

Other noteworthy characteristics of 
the Faye hands are: 

CO LOR -.-white. 

FLEXIBILITY: — this makes Miss Faye 
easygoing and adaptable. She is apt to 
sacrifice her own wishes and desires. 

CONSISTENCY:— soft. Alice is very fem- 
inine. She loves comfort and luxury. J 
She hates a fight and is miserable if her 
surroundings are inharmonious. 

FINGERS:— medium length. This indi- 
cates that Alice is well balanced, 
neither too impulsive nor too fussy 
about details. She loves pleasure and 
romance. Conic tips tell you this. 

If you will look carefully at the top 
of each of Alice's fingers you will dis- 
cover small pads or cushions. This tells 
you that Miss Faye is very sensitive, 
and considerate of the feelings of others. 

KNUCKLES:— smooth. Smooth knuckles 
show intuition and inspiration. 

I HE next point to consider in the study 
of the physical attributes of the hand 
is finger length. This is important. 

First, note carefully whether the fin- 
gers on the hand you are studying 
are in proportion to its size. Deciding 
upon the varying degrees of finger 
length will come to you through prac- 
tice, so merely note if, in proportion to 
a person's general size, the fingers look 
exceptionally long, unusually short, or 
just about right. 

Short fingers mean that you are im- 
pulsive, quick-witted and hasty in your 
actions and in your judgments. You 
loathe details, except when you are vi- 
tally interested. You enjoy a big job 
which can be put through in a hurry. 
Because you are always in a hurry, 


ou are inclined to be careless about 

our appearance, nor do you always 
ake time to be tactful or considerate. 

You make good newspaper reporters 
.nd short story writers, because you 

isualize a thing as a whole. If you are 
[n artist your work will be lacking in 
letails. You are after the effect, not 
Perfection of technique. 

Short fingers with smooth knuckles 
bake you brilliant in the extreme, and 
h this particular instance it is better 
^r your fingers to lie close together, and 
br your hands not to be too flexible. 
Vithout these restraining influences, 
>ou will be the victim of your impulses, 
Ind your natural brilliance and gener- 
osity will be without a guide. 
1 Long fingers belong to persons who 
hove and act and think slowly. A long- 
fingered person loves details, and often 
dakes a fuss over small things, over- 
ooking something of importance. 
: You of the long fingers are cautious, 
asily offended and suspicious and you 
,ather like to dwell on your slights. 

You have a good memory, are careful 
i your dress and appearance and you 

ave an amazing amount of patience, 
hough you are not always tolerant in 
our viewpoint. You are far more tact- 
il and courteous than your short-fin- 
ered acquaintances. 

| You make good novelists, excelling in 
escriptive passages. You make won- 
erful secretaries and trustworthy 
lerks, for you neglect nothing. In 
lusic, painting, acting or directing your 
jchnique is perfect. 

Fingers of medium length show you to 
e well balanced in every way and easy 
o get along with. A careful study of 
he rest of your hands will tell you to 
/hat degree you possess these qualities. 

DELIEVE it or not, the joints of your 
lingers give away a lot of secrets about 
pu. Knotty joints (do not confuse 
hese with rheumatic joints) stand for 
[nalysis. If both the knuckle and sec- 
tnd joint are knotty you are orderly in 
lind and person. You are intelligent, 
ionest, systematic and skeptical. 

If the knuckles (or first joint only) 
re knotty, you are orderly in your 
lental processes, but inclined to be 
areless in your personal appearance. 
E the second joint is well developed, 
ou are systematic and neat in every- 
ling and if with this development you 
ave square fingertips you are prob- 
bly a fuss-budget, if not a positive 
rank about system and order. 

You knotty-fingered people make 
,ood lawyers, investigators, philoso- 
'hers, scientists, historians and charac- 
br actors or actresses. 

Smooth fingers do not bulge at the 

■ nuckles or at the second joint. Smooth 
ngers denote intuition, impulse and 
aspiration. If you have such fingers 
pu think and act quickly. You love 
eauty and harmony in all things. You 
lake good actors, musicians, advertis- 
ing men and women, radio announcers 
nd entertainers and salesmen. 

Thick fingers belong to the person 
/ho loves physical things. He who has 
hick fingers likes to eat and drink and 
as difficulty resisting a pretty face. He 
; inclined to be slow, easygoing. 

Thin fingers belong to the mind rather 
jian to the body. If you have these 
jou are probably nervous, alert and a 

■ •ifle nosey. If there are spaces between 
ou fingers where your fingers join your 
and you are a born investigator. 


NOW for an analysis of your finger- 
ps. Your fingertips influence all your 
ther characteristics markedly. 
There are four types of tips— spatu- 
ite, square, conic, and pointed. The 
Verage hand has a variety of tips, so 
on't expect to find all of any one kind 
f tip3 on your hands. 

The spatulate tip is the broadest. It 
is shaped like a druggist's spatula and 
it denotes energy, love of action, real 
ism, originality, practicality and a love 
of animals and the outdoors. Spatulate 
tips belong to explorers, adventurers, 
writers of action stories, soldiers, sail- 
ors, athletes — and also to a little movie 
£tar named Jane Withers. 

Jane is the perfect example of the 
hand with the spatulate tips. These 
tips add to Jane's originality, love of 
action and her fondness for animals. 
She would sacrifice anything for one or 
all of her various pets. But coupled 
with these spatulate tips are well-bal- 
anced fingers of medium length, wide 
spaces between the fingers themselves 
denoting generosity and independence, 
and the perfect example of short wide 
nails, which tell as plainly as day to the 
initiated that Jane is quizzical, argu- 
mentative and extremely clever. 

The next type of fingertip to watch 
for is the square tip. At first, you may 
find it difficult to differentiate between 
a square and a spatulate tip, so remem- 
ber that, while spatulate tips are very 
broad, they are also slightly oval at the 
ends. Square tips are usually straight 
across. To get this fixed in your mind 
think of a box edge. 

If you have square tips, method and 
order are your gods. You are exact in 
everything you do and you expect 
others to be just as exact. You are 
always on time and woe betide the per- 
son who keeps you waiting. 

You square-fingered people make 
good organizers, practical businessmen, 
bookkeepers, historians, mathematicians, 
architects, exact scientists, and compos- 
ers of marches and other rhythmic 
music. Square tips are helpful to short, 
smooth fingers but with long, knotty 
fingers square tips produce a crank of 
the first water. 

Conic tips are pointed but not pointed 
in the extreme. If you have conic tips 
you are impressionable, intuitive and 
artistic. You dislike exactitude in any- 
thing; you love harmony and are mis- 
erable if your surroundings are un- 
pleasant. You prefer beauty to useful- 
ness. You are sympathetic, emotional 
and an excellent lover, though not al- 
ways a faithful one. You excel in paint- 
ing, music, writing of romance, acting 
and decorating but in order to be out- 
standing in any of these arts, you need 
other characteristics to strengthen and 
push the brilliance of your conic fingers. 
You must have a good-sized thumb, set 
low or medium on your hand, a not too 
flexible hand and medium-length fin- 
gers, with your second and third fingers 
lying close together. 

Pointed tips belong to the dreamer 
rather than to the doer. You are an 
idealist, and you live in a world of your 
own. If you are allowed to exist in this 
world, you will be happy; but you are 
too sensitive and introspective. 

Pointed fingers belong to the poet and 
to the nun. Pointed fingers write beau- 
tiful or weird poetry, fantastic stories 
and plays and religious works. But 
these fingers are never practical. Fre- 
quently their owner is so contented in 
his dream world that he cannot force 
himself to put his dreams on paper. 

Anita Louise's fingers have the 
pointed tips such as I have just de- 
scribed. However, no one point can be 
judged alone in determining hand char- 
acteristics and their relation to their 
owner. Below is a complete reading of 
the backs of Anita's hands. 

SKIN: — very fine of texture and white 
in color. This shows refinement and 
conservatism — a dislike of crudeness, 
exhibitionism, all forms of coarseness. 

NAI LS : — wide. Anita is fundamentally 
frank and honest. 

Claudette Colbert, Charles Boyer, Basil Rathbone, and the 
remainder of the distinguished cast who appear in the forthcoming 
Warner Bros, production "Tovarich" are typical of the group 
of artists who prefer this glamorous refreshing make-up created 
for them by Miss Arden. 

The great stars of Hollywood have found their answer to the 
relentless cameras, the hot lights, the demand for glamour and 
loveliness at any hour of the day or night . . . 

They have discovered the new 


A complete line of preparations are 
available for professional — and 
taking a hint from the stars — for 
private use too. They are priced at 
a dollar ($1 .00) each, and sold by 
exclusive Elizabeth Arden retail dis- 
tributors everywhere. 

The booklet "Professional Informa- 
tion" P-3, containing procedure of 
make-up application for effective 
use, may be obtained by writing 
Screen and Stage Laboratories, 
5533 Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood, 


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FINGERS".— held close together. This 
shows Miss Louise to be conventional 
and reserved. She can hang on to her 
money, hates to make a show of herself 
or to be with anyone who is making 
himself conspicuous. Her fingers curl 
inwards toward the palms which indi- 
cates that she allows very few persons 
really to know her or to get close to her. 

FINGERTIPS: — pointed. Anita Louise is 
idealistic, rather spiritual, intuitive, ro- 
mantic, a lover of beauty and perfection 
in all things. Any man in real life 
who makes love to her must appeal to 
the romantic side of her nature. 

FINGERS: — long. This makes her thor- 
ough and particular about details. 

KNUCKLES: — knotty. This increases her 
caution and causes her to analyze 
everything with extreme care. 

INGERNAILS will assist you in dis- 
covering health defects and will point 
out many characteristics. 

Broad nails, wide at both tip and base, 
indicate that you are honest, robust, 
frank sometimes to the point of bru- 
tality, and if they are a clear red or pink 
in color, you have excellent health and 
a tremendous amount of vitality. 

Narrow nails, wide at the tip and 
narrow at the base, show that you are 
more tactful than the blunt, broad- 
nailed person, a bit more subtle and, 
though you appear to have a great deal 
of vitality, you go on your nervous 
energy, and it is soon exhausted. 

Short nails are critical nails. If only 
fairly short you are more quizzical than 
critical. If very short with no moons, 
you are scrappy, argumentative and 
often critical to an unpleasant degree. 
If you have yellow skin, knotty joints 
and very short nails, heaven protect 
your mate, providing you are fortu- 
nate enough to have one. You are 
clever, and amusing, too, but how often 
is it at the expense of someone else? 


HE healthiest nails are a clear pink 
without spots or ridges. 

White spots on your nails indicate 
severe nervous strain. If the spots start 
at the lower part of the nail, the strain 

has been going on for six months ; 
least. If the spots start near the cente 
the strain began about three montr 
ago. If the spots continue all the wa 
to the tip of the nail you must guar 
your health from further strain. 

Ridges or flutings warn you of 
breakdown of some sort and when the! 
cause your nails to become cloud; 
thick-white, or yellow, you had bette 
consult a physician about your healtl 

Blue nails, especially at the base, in 
dicate some form of obstruction in cir 
culation and may even signify a hea: 
condition. However, let me warn yo 
never, never to take it upon yourse 
to tell someone that he has a heart con 
dition. You wouldn't want him to dro 
dead at your feet, would you? 

Curved nails curve over the end c' 
your finger and they warn you of 
tendency to throat or bronchial ail ; 
ments. You should be very carefi 
about taking cold. Never neglect 
cold, for the result might be serious. 

Bulbous nails curve down over th 
end of your fingertips, and the finger 
tips themselves are shaped like bulb 
Such nails indicate a decided weaknes 
of the lungs or chest. This warnin 
should never be ignored and if you hav 
nails of this type you should be unde 
the care of a reliable physician. 

I HAT completes our study of the back 
of your hands. In going back over th' 
points, please remember that in orde 
to give an accurate reading of hands 
every indication mentioned must b 
given careful consideration, becausi 
each characteristic — such as color, skii 
texture, flexibility, nails, length anc; 
type of fingers, fingertips, etc., has it 
especial effect on all the other traits 
If you will give this your careful at- 
tention you will surprise everyone, in- 
cluding yourself, with the acumen o^ 
your character analysis. 

Miss Trotter's next article, in Marcl 
PHOTOPLAY, will be the study o' 
the palms of your hands. As she die 
this month, each point will be illus- 
trated by pictures. Study these pic- 
tures under the microscope, heart 
to read your own hands accurately. 

Diamond Pin Money 

(Continued from page 23) 

Joel McCrea, Randolph Scott and Joe 
E. Brown, raise horses. Heaven knows 
that everyone who raises horses loses 

The reason for all this outside activity 
seems to be that losing money is one of 
the few things you can do and make the 
government pay for it. It is a little mat- 
ter of the income tax, where a thumping 
deficit in one operation reduces your 
super-tax. You have the fun of experi- 
menting on a ranch or in a hat shop and 
most of the fifty thousand dollars you 
lose is the government's loss, not yours. 

The men and women who represent 
grace and glamour and adventure on 
the screen — I like to think of them as 
manufacturers, shopkeepers, farmers, 
restaurant-keepers, and garage men. I 
know they don't often work at these 
jobs, but it's pleasant to think that, after 
a hard day at the studio where they 
have earned about five hundred dollars 
an hour by actually facing the camera, 
they go home to find their hamburger 
stand or fruit farm or furniture store 
has turned in a profit of eight dollars 
and sixteen cents and they'll have to 
hire a new cashier. 

What's more, the movie stars who 
make chow mein (that is Mae West) ; or 

bottle lemon juice (that is Mr. Cagney 
who lost only five thousand dollars on il 
the first year) ; or manage prize tighten 
(that is Al Jolson and the prize fighter 
is Henry Armstrong) — all of these are 
getting some knowledge of the give- 
and-take of normal human interests, the 
sort of thing that you and I run through 
every day. It is bound to be a good 
counterbalance against the fantastic 
things they do on the screen and the 
slightly more extravagant things they 
do as part of the life of Hollywood. 


HESE outside wage earners are really 
divided into several classifications. The. 
boys and girls who merely triple their 
movie salaries by radio work are having 
a lucky break and they know perfectly 
well that it can't last; that in spite 
of our positively wicked government 
(which has only given them liberty and 
the fairly successful pursuit of happi- 
ness) they ought to make a lot of money 
and save a lot for a rainy day. To me, 
the radio and the movie salaries are in 
the same bracket; some people get more 
for one than for the other, but it is sub- 
stantially the same sort of income. 

Naturally, there are radio stars to 
whom the movies are "velvet." Burns 


i Allen picked up only $92,000 in 1935 
•,o the pictures; if they were annoyed, 
i- ;l0,000-a-week radio' salary must 
nap consoled them. 
iked Allen wouldn't get $416,000 a 

i in the movies — but he can count on 
: Ei the air. And so on. But straight 
t ;.e-and-screen stars, like Bill Fields 

i Eddie' Cantor, run way ahead of 
ft r movie income in their radio work. 
i antor pays for his company and ex- 
talent, but that still leaves him a fair 
# of $15,000 a week; and Fields got a 

i ract at five thousand dollars a week, 
Jit didn't seem to hold him. 
, ick Oakie gets forty-five hundred 
Jars for a radio show — a little more 
J\ for showing up at the movie 
Vlios. Jeanette MacDonald asks for, 
,: gets, five thousand dollars. 

ist by way of contrast: Garbo 
csn't earn a nickel on the air. 
, 11 of these financial giants have 
_iness managers. They can't act for 
i cameras, go on the air, run a shop or 
, |inch — and still have time to watch 
i ticker. So they get a man who kicks 
pnoters downstairs, straight-arms 
.'[-discovered relatives, and runs the 
uness generally — at a fee. 

I is hard, however, for these business 
jctors to decide on this one thing. 

his quick earning all to the good? 
' l't the dear American audience turn 
t e if it gets Miss Wonderful in nine 
<ures and on fifty- two broadcasts a 
*■? Would it be better to spread it 
i' Or — then the doubts begin. May- 
ii you spread it out, you'll not have 
i 1 chance next year. And so it goes — 

^cious circle. 

kjOST of the movie players seem to 
i[e decided to get it while they can. 
Jl there has been no lack of oppor- 
lity. In the good old days of testi- 
iiiial advertisements one little star 
inged to spend two days being 
tographed with a variety of objects, 
n clothes and cosmetics, to jewels 
1 motor cars — all of which she would 
iorse — and her agent called all the 
Tit manufacturers and offered her en- 
jsement to the highest bidder, 
hose days have gone, but there is 
1 pay dirt in the game. The better 
1 is putting your name on a commer- 
t product — or your face, if you are 
'key Mouse. 

ddie Bergen is in for a tidy sum — 
ess his agent missed a cue — from the 
I of Charlie McCarthy dolls this year. 
I you have to be pretty special. For 
ance, there are no Joan Crawford's 
jsses — if a woman didn't like the 
iss, she might take a dislike to Joan 
jwford. It's safer to endorse what 
lieone else is already selling, 
adio, endorsements, testimonials — ■ 
pe are the sources of big money. But 
'"human interest," the things stars do 
la smaller scale are more rewarding. 
[y does one raise orchids and another 
■ince a pearling ship? Why does one 
lent a new motorcar brake in his 
Ire time and another grow walnuts? 
y do some go in for real estate and 
iers for raising cattle? Difference of 
iperament, maybe. But it is remark- 
5 that after their work in the make- 
ieve movie world, they go in for 
lething substantial, something you 
put your hands on and say "here it 
or "this is mine." A few have 
ight stock in movie companies; gen- 
lly, they go into "serious business." 
md if they bother to look about 
m, movie stars find ample reason for 
ing a business on the side. There are 
ens and even hundreds of players 
3 were once in the big money and 
a now are lucky if they get fifty dol- 
» a week instead of seven and a half 
lars a day two or three times a 
'he brothers Frank and Ralph Mor- 

gan are really the Wuppermans who 
were born to the family making An- 
gostura Bitters in this country. Natu- 
rally, they have not given that up, but 
they also are proprietors of a furniture 
store in Palm Springs. Furniture is 
solid and is not made of breakaways or 
balsa wood. Mr. Reginald Denny's en- 
terprise is not quite so substantial in 
its products — but to have the largest 
factory in the world producing model 
airplanes (with two million dollars in 
advance orders for next year) is some- 
thing that you really can count on. 


HE passion for the land I have al- 
ready mentioned. Mr. Cecil De Mille 
was a sort of pioneer in the movie busi- 
ness of California and perhaps it was 
automatic that he should own one of the 
largest fruit ranches in that state; but 
he backs it up with one of the largest 
cotton plantations in Arkansas. Mr. 
Robert Taylor may have heard that 
fame and beauty are both fleeting, so he 
breeds horses and, in addition, is a real- 
estate operator. 

It is reported that in one single deal 
in real estate last year he made more 
money than his entire year's salary in 

Also on the substantial side is Jean 
Hersholt, who used to be a director in 
two banks and has invested in indus- 
trial establishments here and abroad. 

Charles Bickford has a whole string 
of gas stations, but apparently there is a 
touch of romance in him because he has 
also invested in a pearling ship. 

I don't consider horses a really safe 
investment, but Al Jolson apparently 
does because he runs a stable and, if 
you look hard, you will find him at the 
better tracks. 

Bing Crosby owns the Del Mar track 
which took most of a year's picture sal- 
ary at the beginning, but is expected to 
pay off in time. 

There are a dozen owners of buildings 
from apartment houses to markets. 

The movie people run hamburger 
stands and raise bees and manufacture 
perfumes and neckties and medicines 
and breed trout. Mr. Noah Beery is the 
trout specialist and he has the business 
pretty well in hand. You may fish in 
his stream and pay him thirty-five cents 
for every fish you catch — but he also 
runs a restaurant near by to which your 
fish must go if you want it cooked. 


QUICK glance (by an expert 
glancer) revealed no less than ninety 
stars who have "outside activities" and 
more than half of these were in business 
enterprises. It's hard to believe that all 
of them are "working" at some other 
business as a form of insurance. Many 
of them have been wise and put by 
enough to live on the rest of their lives. 
They aren't scared, but they know, as 
well as we do, that their place at the top 
is not permanent. (A Hollywood law- 
yer is trying to get their income tax re- 
duced by an allowance for exhaustion 
of popularity, as the government allows 
for the exhaustion of an oil well.) 

They also know that the time will 
come when they will want something 
interesting to do — when they are 
through with pictures. Many would 
rather leave the pictures altogether than 
take the long hard road down to small 
parts and bits and extra work. So they 
have provided an interest in life against 
the future. 

For myself, I still think that Miss 
Temple's ten cents is the best money in 
the world. It was earned by straight 
business methods (the little girl is a 
rugged individualist) and she probably 
would be a great executive if she 
weren't so busy being an actress. The 
other money on the side is velvet — her 
dime for the pony is earned — and, I 
hope, well spent. 

JVew Cream Arings 
to Women theAetive 





i/vlieA. (buqcne an Uont, III 

"Pond's new 'skin-vitamin* Vanishing Cream is as 
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Yes, really a new kind of cream! 

Only 4 years ago, it was hardly 
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that a certain vitamin applied direct 
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quicker in burns and wounds, and 
in such cases prevented infections. 

Then, Pond's started research on 
what this vitamin might do for the 
skin when put in Pond's Creams. 

Today — you can have its benefits 
for your skin — in Pond's new "skin- 
vitamin" Vanishing Cream! 

Helps nutrition of skin 

You've always known that Pond's 
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But now! — by bringing the "skin- 
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mous cream helps your skin more 
directly. Its use now nourishes the 
skin. Women who use it say it 
makes their skin look clearer; pores 
seem finer; it keeps skin faults away 
more surely. 

Same jars, same labels, 
same price 

Just get a jar of Pond's new "skin- 
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at the same price. 

Use it regularly night and day for 
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new kind of cream! 

The vitamin it contains is not the 
"sunshine" vitamin. Not the orange- 
juice vitamin. It is not "irradiated." 
But the actual "skin-vitamin." Use 
it and see how it helps your skin. 

*°V M/ 



Pond's, Dept. 15- VO, Clinton, Conn. Rush special 
tube of Pond's new "skin-vitamin" Vanishing 
Cream, enough f»>r u treatments, with samples <»f 2 
other Pond's "skin-vitamin" Creams and ."> differ- 
ent shades of Pond's Face Powder. I enclose 10*! to 
cover postage and packing. 



right, 1937, Pond's Extract Company 


WITHOUT \W&ffl% 

Seems Like Everyone has a 

Kleenex True Confession 


9/9 A/. Michigan Ave., Chicago 


(From a letter by Mis. H. E. B., Pasadena, Cal.) 



HERE AGAIN ! (From a letter by 

Mrs. W. T., New York, N. Y.) 



B £ a Tissue Fi/nibler 


{From a letter by 

Mrs. W. P. S., Chicago, 111.) 

• Do as millions are doing— adopt the habit 
of using Kleenex Disposable Tissues in every 
room of your home, at the office and in your 
car. Once you start, you'll wonder how you ever 
got along without Kleenex, the disposable 
tissues that come in handy in a dozen ways 
each day. 

When sniffles start . . . 
During colds, it's good policy to put aside 
handkerchiefs and use Kleenex instead. See 
how it soothes your nose and saves money 
as it reduces handkerchief washing. What's 
more, Kleenex tends to hold germs, thus 
checks the spread of colds through the family. 
You use each tissue just once— then destroy, 
germs and all. You'll cheer that you don't 
have to wash dozens of handkerchiefs when- 
ever there's a cold in your family. 

Dozens of other uses 

Use Kleenex, too, to remove face creams 
and cosmetics; to dust and polish; as a kit- 
chen help; for baby; and for countless other 
uses. In the car, Kleenex comes in handy to 




(From a letter by Mr. E. L. M., Dayton, Ohio) 

wipe hands, windshield and greasy places. 

Don't be a tissue tumbler! 
To end tissue waste and mess, be sure to buy 
Kleenex in the Serv-a-Tissue box. You pull 
a double tissue easily, quickly, with only one 
hand and another pops up ready for use. 
Only Kleenex has this patented feature. 200 
sheets in the Serv-a-Tissue box now 2 for 
25c at drug counters everywhere. 


in we 


it Saves as it Serves— one double tissue at a time 


("Trade Mark Reg. U. S. Patent Office) 

Boos and Bouquets 

(Continued from page 4) 

male costar for her fame. 

A couple of crisp salutes to these two 
grand girls for making monkeys of their 

T. Swan, 
San Francisco, Calif. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


A big bouquet to you for the intro- 
duction of the new, enlarged and greatly 
improved Photoplay. But I would sug- 
gest to you that you add one more de- 
partment, "For Men Only." Your Octo- 
ber issue seems perfect in all respects 
but one — there is nothing substantial in 
it that can be of material help to your 
MALE readers. There are various de- 
partments that include make-up, beauty 
hints, body building, latest Hollywood 
fashions, etc., all for ladies. 

Hence, I, on behalf of all your male 
readers in India and elsewhere, would 
suggest a new department. There you 
should give us pictorial articles from 
male fashion authorities advising us 
what the well-dressed man should wear, 
details for correct clothes for sports, 
formal and informal affairs. Studio 
trainers could give full descriptions of 
the exercises that keep the top-notch 
stars like Gable in the pink of con- 
dition, and other articles dealing with 
the proper care of the hair, skin, etc. 
If we get some of these useful hints 
regularly I say without fear of con- 
tradiction that the sale of Photoplay 
will increase fifty percent. I should like 
this letter published in order that I 
may know the views of thousands of 
other male readers. 

Ratoo Mistry, 
Bombay, India. 

We, too, are anxious to know what 
our male readers think of this idea. Will 
you write and tell us? 

$1.00 PRIZE 


What have they done to our once 
lovely Joan Crawford? 

After seeing "The Bride Wore Red" 
I was wondering! She looked so callous 
(in her last few pictures it has been the 
same) I could hardly believe it was 
Joan Crawford. The hair style may 
have been the reason, for it was any- 
thing but nice, since it was contin- 
ually hanging in her eyes. Please don't 
let Joan wear her hair that way any 
more — it is too horrid. She looked so 
very unreal. Not the glamorous Joan. 
No! But just a picture someone had 
painted to make fun of her too-large 
eyes and too-much make-up. 

Please, for her public's and her own 
sake, have Joan take off some of that 
hideous make-up, fix her hair in soft 
feminine curls and be just the same 
Joan Crawford we have always loved. 
Shirley M. Temping, 

Seattle, Wash. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


How I would enjoy seeing Greta 
Garbo in another "Anna Christie" role. 
Why, oh why do they persistently cast 
her in costume pictures? I'm sure a 
great many people will agree with me 
when I say that she was more popular 
in those days than now. 

First it was "Queen Christina," then 
"Anna Karenina" followed by "Camille" 
and now we have "Conquest," another 
picture with our Garbo all dressed up 
in mousseline de soie, lace, velvet and 

what not. In fact, there is too mu 
costume and not enough Garbo. A 
where is the famous Garbo bob? 

And another thing. Why is it that 
all her pictures she either dies in t 
end or gets the worst of it, anyhow? 
vote for a happy Garbo in "pla 
clothes." Are you with me, or "agi 

E. Dieroff, 
Quebec, Canada. 
$1.00 PRIZE 


I'm tossing away the torches I've bef 
carrying for those great lovers, Tayl 
and Gable, that daring adventurer, E 
rol Flynn, and that prince of leadii 
men, Ray Milland. I'm lighting candl 
to their memory, and joyfully lightii 
a flaming torch for a boy singer. 

His is a personality and charm as n 
freshing as a cool movie on a hot Tex; 
afternoon. His is the voice of Die 
Powell, Jack Haley and Nelson Edd 
rolled into one glorious tenor. His ai 
the mannish good looks. 
. Have you guessed whom I'm rantin 
about — the delightful hero of "Mr. Dod 
Takes the Air" and "52nd Street"- 
Kenny Baker. 

He is the timid lovable boy we'v 
listened to, chuckled and laughed wit! 
who's been a notable addition to Jac 
Benny's radio laugh riot. One has to b 
good to make a place for himself i 
that array of talent and Kenny ha' 
carved a niche that no one else can fil 
I hope they don't try to make a sophis 
ticated lover out of him; he isn't one 
He's just — Kenny. 

Janice Aubrey, 
Gainesville, Texas. 

Kenneth L. Baker has a lilting lyrii 
tenor voice, exceptionally curly hair, m 
ingratiating grin, is six feet tall, was bon 
in Monrovia, California on Sept. 30, 1912 
He attended Polytechnic High School it 
hong Beach, Calif., began his singing ca- 
reer in the church choir at the Santo 
Anita Scientists Church. His first im- 
portant engagement was as a solo singei 
at the Los Angeles Biltmore; he won the 
Eddie Duchin Open Radio Champion- 
ship in 1935, was singing at the Cocoa- 
nut Grove when Mervyn LeRoy, im- 
pressed with his charm, signed him for 
pictures, groomed him for the stardom 
he won in "Mr. Dodd Takes the Air: 
Baker is very retiring in private life, 
idolizes tenor John Charles Thomas, 
married his childhood sweetheart in 

$1.00 PRIZE 


A great big bouquet of orchids to 
Photoplay and to Miss Dixie Willson 
for the lovely story on "The Sweetheart 
of the World" — my own special favorite, 
Shirley Temple. I never miss a single 
word written about my idol, and of all 
the things I have ever read I do think 
Miss Willson's article was one of the 

You see, Mr. Editor, I am a little girl 
just about Shirley's age, but of all the 
many gifts the fairies have bestowed on 
this adorable child, I have none — that's 
why I love her so. She can sing sweetly 
— and I can't even talk. She dances and 
I have never walked, but when I watch 
her I forget about me. I am a new person; 
I am the person Shirley is playing — do 
you wonder I adore her? May I thank 
Photoplay and Miss Willson again for 
an extra ray of sunshine for a shut in. 
Josephine O'Brien, 
Flint, Mich. 


51.00 PRIZE 


At last! A prayer answered! We 
|;ople who live hundreds of miles from 
ollywood have had our chance at com- 
in close contact with the movie 
jlony. We have crowded every spare 
oment into visits to Bidwell Park for 
glimpse of Errol Flynn's new picture 
The Adventures of Robin Hood" in the 
aking. We have truly enjoyed the in- 
jnsity of the scenes, the courtesies of 
fe directors and cameramen, and, most 
all, the congeniality of Errol Flynn 
imself. By his naturalness, sincerity 
,id good fellowship he has added many 
[iends to his already countless thou- 
f.nds. Many thanks from Northern 
alifornia to Warners for bringing us a 
t of Hollywood. We hope that others, 
10, will have the good fortune to wit- 
;ss their favorite stars on location. 
Ruth Carter, 
Marysville, Calif. 




lit is thrilling to watch a falling star— 
om the sky. Yesterday I witnessed 
e first signs of a cinema star's slip and 
was pitiful. The subtitle of Bing 
rosby's new picture "Double or Noth- 
ought to be "Upward or Down- 
ard," for Bing cannot continue on the 
ime level much longer. He is evi- 
Bntly resting on his er, mmm, shall we 
iy laurels? 

On the screen he really looks the fam- 
man that he is in reality, and that's 
tting his personal life interfere with 
Is career! He has a decidedly stodgy 
bpearance, the twinkle has left one eye 
he still has it in the other one) and 
here, or where, is that mischievous 
[lance that made him look as if he 
teant something Will Hays didn't allow 
am to say? As for the straw hat and 
bw tie our singing hero wore, well, if 
jing has the say in selecting his own 
ardrobe, he had better speak up. 
I hear that that hilariously funny 
led Englishwoman, Beatrice Lillie, 
ill be in Bing's next picture. Miss 
'illie will set the pace! "Double your 
(Torts, — or Nothing," Bing! 

Ann Golvin, 
Los Angeles, Calif. 

1.00 PRIZE 


Hats off to a truly great actor — Wil- 
am Powell. It is remarkable in itself 
->at Mr. Powell becomes more popular 
s the years roll by, instead of being 

forgotten after a few successful years. | 
But the real proof came when he was I 
filming "Double Wedding." Knowing 
how the tragedy of Jean Harlow's death 
had affected Mr. Powell, I expected to 
notice some difference in his acting, but, 
although I made a special effort to de- 
tect a difference, I was unable to do so. 
His fine hilarious "acting" never varied 
throughout the picture. 

Bouquets to a man who could make 
the nation laugh while he was experi- 
encing a great sorrow. 

Mrs. C. E. Jones, 
Los Angeles, Calif. 

After finishing "Double Wedding," Mr. 
Powell left for Europe for a three 
months' vacation. On his return he went 
to 20th Century-Fox on a loan, to star 
in a picture with Annabella, their pretty 
new French star. The title of the pic- 
ture was "Jean," but the name was 
changed to "The Baroness and the 

$1.00 PRIZE 


The door opened. A rather tall young 
woman with lovely reddish hair and 
silver fox furs down to her knees en- 
tered hesitantly. I looked up. She 
wasn't beautiful — but there was some- 
thing in her face that made me wish — 
I don't know what. 

"May I see Mr. F — ?" Her voice was 

A short time later I was in Mr. F — 's 
office busy with daily duties (I'm a sec- 
retary) . Mr. F — was talking. 

"Can you dance? They want someone 
versatile." The young woman said 
"Why of course," and, turning away 
from us both with a little embarrassed 
smile, she very slowly raised her leg 
'way up over her head and held it there 
a few seconds. It was the most graceful 
motion — and executed with the utmost 
ease and charm. The young woman 
smiled at our applause, pleased as a kid. 

A few days later she got a contract 
with one of the major studios. They 
kept her around as atmosphere, gave 
her a couple of small bits, and then 
didn't take up her option. She was 
very unhappy. Then another studio 
signed her. She kept getting better and 
better roles and I kept getting smugger 
and smugger. I had seen her poten- 
tialities the very first time I saw her. 
Now she is to be starred in her own 

She's grand, don't you think? Who? 
Why the girl you laugh, and laugh and 
laugh at — Joan Davis! 

Florence Holmes. 
Los Angeles, Calif. 


The Marches being those two grand Hollywood 
personalities, Freddie and Florence, who are at 
long last appearing opposite each other on the 
New York stage. 

Here's a spoonful of wisdom from one of the san- 
est young men in the business. 

Here's also the reason for his success both as a 
husband and an actor. 




€ n e 


Norforms are easy-to-use antiseptic sup- 
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perature and spread a protective, sooth- 
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—an antiseptic film that remains in effec- 
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izing as well as antiseptic and soothing. 


Every day, more and more women are adopting Nor- 
forms for Feminine Hygiene, because: 

1. Norforms are so easy to use. They require no awkward ap- 
paratus for application. They come in a small, convenient 
package of one dozen. 

2. They contain Para by dree in— a powerful and positive anti- 
septic developed by Norwich, makers of Unguentine. No 
danger of an overdose or "burn" with Norforms. 

3. They leave no embarrassing antiseptic odor about room or 
person. In fact, they are deodorizing, and many women use 
them for this purpose alone. 

4. They remain in effective, antiseptic contact for hours. 

5. Norforms can be used as often as necessary. They are sooth- 
ing and beneficial as well as antiseptic. 


Send for the new Norforms booklet, "Feminine Hygiene Made Easy." Or, 
buy a box of Norforms at your druggist's today. 12 in a package, com- 
plete with leaflet of instructions. The Norwich Pharmacal Company, 
Norwich, New York, makers of Vngaentine. 

no p, f-o f\ ms 


© N. P. C. 1939 


How to win against 









These hateful little specks hide in the 
corners of your nose and chin, and don't 
show their faces until they have deep 
roots. Even one blackhead may prove 
your present cleansing method fails in 
these corners. To see how quickly black- 
heads yield to a penetrating cream, 
send the coupon below to Lady Esther, 


Does your skin always seem a little 
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Send the coupon below to Lady Esther 
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These are symptoms of DRY skin. A 
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Your pores should be invisible to the 
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Can you see faint lines at the corners of 
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have become deep wrinkles. The coupon 
below brings you my directions for 
smoothing out these little lines before 
they grow into wrinkles. 




If your general health is good, then 
your skin should have a clear, healthy 
color. Very often the dingy, foggy tone 
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to see an amazing difference— a clearer, 
lighter, fresher looking skin, then let 
me send you, FREE, a tube of my pene- 
trating cream. 


Have you a Lucky Penny? 

Here's how a penny postcard will bring you luck. It will 
bring you FREE and postpaid a generous tube of Lady 
Esther Four Purpose Face Cream, and all ten shades of 
Lady Esther Face Powder. 

(You can paste this on a penny postcard) 
Lady Esther, 7118 West 65th Street, Chicago, 111. 

Dear Madam: I would like your directions for (check) 

Blackheads Dry Skin Oily Skin 

Coarse Pores Tiny Lines Poor Color 

Please send me a tube of Lady Esther Four Purpose Face Cream, and ten shades 
of Lady Esther Face Powder, FREE and postpaid. 


City — 


{If you live in Canada, write Lady Esther, Toronto, Ont.) 


Rudy Vallee abandons his baton for a camera and snaps pretty Colum- 
bia star, Joan Perry, on the veranda of the Palm Springs Racquet Club 

Hollywood's Case Against Monogamy 

(Continued from page 17) 

Many of them do not keep their 
hearts. They fall in love with other 
ambitious youngsters, naturally and 
sweetly and inevitably, and they marry. 
And life goes on, work goes on, and the 
girl grows older and so does the boy. 
And perhaps one is more successful 
than the other, and the other can't take 
it. Or perhaps they were simply too 
young for marriage, too dazzled and too 
much in love with love to know what 
it was all about. So they part; and 
eventually are divorced. 


NOTHER type of marriage which 
takes place in an early stage of devel- 
opment is the marriage of ambition. 
Many girls in Hollywood have married, 
shortly after their first contract, in order 
to get ahead faster. They marry men 
with money, or influence, or good jobs; 
they marry established players, di- 
rectors, producers. And this type of 
marriage also goes on the rocks. 

Then there's loneliness. And don't 
think you can't be lonely in Hollywood. 
Or there's the boy or girl back home 
with whom the aspirant star was in love 
before he or she came West, and old 
love and old loyalty not yet outgrown, 
but soon to be, perhaps. Oh, there are 
all sorts of reasons for these young, 
early marriages — love, ambition, loneli- 
ness, propinquity, loyalty, and some- 
times fear — fear of failing, fear of be- 
ing alone, fear of missing happiness. 

In a land, almost legendary, where 
love-making is bread and butter, it is 
natural that the dividing line between 
fantasy and reality sometimes grows 
very faint. You keep on acting and you 
keep on making love even after the 
cameras have stopped grinding. 

The climate in Hollywood is stimulat- 
ing, the talk in Hollywood — almost en- 
tirely of pictures and picture people — 
is stimulating. Everything is fast-mov- 
ing, and exciting and hurried — and arti- 
ficial. You don't talk about hundreds 
of dollars, you talk about millions of 
dollars. You don't say that Mr. So and 
So is rather in love with Miss Whoosit 
— you say that Mr. So and So is madly, 
passionately in love with Miss Whoosit, 
that it is The Great Love of His Life. 
And after a while, he believes it. 

The studios help along the illusion, in 

various ways. For instance, when the 
have a promising couple of young fea 
tured players under contract, they ai 
delighted, for publicity purposes, t 
suggest, hint and foster a romance be 
tween the two. Sometimes this artifi 
cially engendered, make-believe ro 
mance turns into something real . 
at least for the time being. 

Another way in which the studio 
play Cupid is through the clauses in 
serted in some of the younger stars 
contracts, which forbid them to marr; 
for a certain number of years. It's th 
old story of Adam and Eve and th 
apple. Tell a youngster that he or sh< 
can't marry and it's the one thing ii 
the world he or she wants to do! 

IT has often been asked, cynically, wh; 
do the stars bother to marry so often 
Why not a love affair and be done witl 
it? Why all these elaborate elopement 
— advance notices given to the papers 
Why take on even the semblance of thi 
solemnity of vows before God and mai 
— or at least a judge or someone at La 

The answer is simple enough. W< 
all want domesticity,. a home, children 
a place apart from the white lights 
And certainly when one of our manj 
marrying stars marries for the third oi 
fourth time, it is still with the idea thai 
he or she is an average human being 
and domesticity and slippers by the fire- 
side is the real thing. 

The trouble is that most stars aren't 
average human beings. For that reason 
the role becomes difficult to play after a 

Yet, in a great many cases, the second 
or even third marriage of some of the 
stars has turned out — as far as we know.j 
and as far as they have gone — to be 
happy and to give every promise of 
endurance. This definitely goes against 
our average belief in monogamy — and it 
is the interesting contribution to human 
behavior that Hollywood offers the 
world to consider. This is, possibly, be- 
cause, having experienced failure, these 
exotic people have at last found suc- 
cess, in perfectly complementing each 
other. In other words, they have 
achieved a marriage of maturity that 
happens to be the right one after sev- 


eral marriages of fumbling immaturity. 

Now and then, we find the case of a 
star — usually a woman — who grows up 
in phases. She may marry several 
times, she usually does, and each time 
she marries the man who complements 
that phase . . . she runs possibly the 
whole gamut which I mentioned earlier. 
She marries first for young love, sec- 
ondly, for ambition; and then, perhaps, 
for intellectual companionship; and 
after that for something else again. 

A great many average women have 
wished, in their secret hearts, that they, 
too, could change husbands with their 
moods or with the development of their 
own personalities, but the average wom- 
an can't manage several marriages dur- 
ing her lifetime. 

Certainly there is no reason for us to 
condemn or to praise the all-change- 
partners method. 

What the everyday boy or girl or man 
or woman must realize is that just as 
imported cars, twenty-carat diamonds, 
swimming pools, race horses and trunks 
of clothes are not to be his or her lot, 
neither are many marriages. 

The average home is not run on a 
Hollywood basis. You can't be excused 
by temperament or talk of genius or of 
being above the average man-made 

Every man or woman reaches a 
point when he or she says "I can't stand 
it another minute!'' The thing which 
precipitates this feeling is not always 
a big thing — it isn't always brutality or 
drunkenness or adultery or dis-honesty 
— it's more than likely something quite 
trivial— the way a man whistles through 
his teeth, the way a woman lies about 
the cost of her hats. It may be too 
much mother-in-law, or too much 
money or plain incompatibility or any- 
thing at all. But such moments of I- 
wish-I-were-free come very often in all 
marriages. Only the routine of daily 
life forbids rushing out to a lawyer. 
The children, lack of money, what peo- 
ple will say — those points must be con- 

But the Hollywood stars, when they 
feel this mood coming over them, are in 
a position to rush to lawyers. In the 
first place, they don't have to think 
about what the neighbors will say, and 
they don't have to think about money 
and they don't, as a rule, consider the 
children, if any. 

From the Hollywood star's view- 
point, then, they thus avoid monotony. 
For many of them, the women partic- 
ularly, it does seem to mean that the 

overthrowing of monogamy in favor of 
many marriages creates stimulus and 

I have watched a few of these women 
stars, past forty, who seem to be, in their 
reaction to several marriages, still 
young girls. In each new love they 
seem to find the eternal promise of their 

There is another thing to be said for 
them, too. By refusing to hold to mar- 
riages that make them unhappy, by not 
turning a hypocritical face to the world 
and murmuring that all is well with 
their love when the opposite is true, the 
stars do get a kind of realistic honesty. 

I do not believe this makes them 
happy. I feel that the lonely shoals we 
often see them landing on at the middle 
years of their rather hectic lives may 
come from this very attitude; yet the 
sheer honesty of it is, and should be, 
somehow admirable. 


GREAT many men and women — 
almost all of us in fact — have all 
the less paying potentialities of the 
stars. That is to say, most people have 
temperament in some form or another. 
The average Mr. and Mrs. can't express 
it, that's all . . . not, that is, on the 
screen or stage, in words or with paint 
or music. They get just as fed up, of 
course they do. and they have moments 
in which freedom from all bonds ap- 
pears the mcst desirable thing in the 

But public opinion is not so lenient 
with Mr. and Mrs. as with Star and 
Starlet. Nor is money usually so plenti- 
ful. And besides, there's the office to 
go to in the morning — and so the mood 
passes, is forgotten and married life goes 
smoothly on until the next time. 

People who live through these minor 
crises together have achieved a real 
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by which they could become married 
friends for life. 

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Hi, Georgie 


Then, one day, George smiled. 

"I was smiling," George relates, "at 
the thought that my grandfather had 
found gold out in California. I figured 
that there was still gold in California, 
but that the best place to make a strike 
was in Hollywood." 

George's smile exploded into a laugh 
and he bought a one-way ticket to the 
Pacific coast. Now, he thought, if Cali- 
fornia will just say — "Hi, Georgie!" 

But he found himself just another guy 
around town, even if he did frequent 
the better places, even if he did lay out 
much of the remainder of his savings 
for a lease on a home on the correct 
side of the tracks in Beverly Hills. He 
was not even a guy about town when he 
moved into a modest hotel; became 
someone to dodge when he was forced 
to lodge in a third-rate dive, run up a 
bill, and wonder if he were going to 
have to sleep on potato sacks again. 


HEN the fates stepped in. 

One day in 1930 George scraped up 
enough money to have lunch in the 
Brown Derby in Hollywood. Bob Perry, 
a friend of Broadway days, met him 

"I want you to meet a guy," Bob said. 
"He'll use you in a picture." 

"Does he know I can't act?" asked 

"I told him you were better than 

The man was Rowland Brown, direc- 
tor. His quick, appraising eye saw the 
pictorial value of Raft's hard, white face 
and flashing eyes. He put George in 
"Quick Millions." Gangsters were 
needed badly, so George worked next in 
"Hush Money," and this was followed 
by his big break and sensational smash 
in "Scarface." 

Paramount tested him, signed him. 
That was six years ago. 

Mack Gray came to town, managing a 
fighter, went to Georgie to say hello. 

"What's in managing fighters?" George 
asked him. 

"Nothing," admitted Mack. 

"Then work for me." 

Today, Mack and George are still pals. 
Mack, ex-trainer, ex-fight manager, has 
appeared in ten pictures, will work in 
some more. 

"Imagine that guy!" explodes George. 
"I hire him as a trainer — and I've been 
training him ever since. Now he wants 
to be a big shot." 

Mack, credited with giving Hollywood 
a laugh when he took driving lessons 
and proved his resultant skill by crack- 
ing up George's car, denies the charge 
of wanting to go big time. 

"Georgie and I have been together too 
long for me to up and leave him," pro- 
tests Mack. "I still look after him." 

Whereupon George laughs. 

Since "Scarface," George has weaved 
his turbulent way through a score of 
productions. He has been branded a 
"bad boy." George isn't bad. As orig- 
inally chronicled, he's sensitive. That 
hard surface has a high polish, but it's 
thin. The slightest scratch goes through, 
stings the man beneath. Nearly every 
clash he has had with the studio can be 
traced to this characteristic. 

"I don't want to fight," George says, 
"but a fellow has to stick up for his 

He adds, and you find this hard to be- 
lieve until you know the inside story of 
his encounters, "Most of the fights I've 
had have been for the good of the 

The usual procedure is this: the 

(Continued jrom page 69) 

studio tells George he must do some- 
thing. An innate logic tells him it isn't 
the thing to do. With the good of the 
studio in mind he protests. He's charged 
with seeking his own ends. This hurts 
his feelings. The real fight begins, with 
George never giving in until he's shown 
he's wrong. 

George walked out just before the ill- 
fated "You and Me" was to go before 
the cameras last year. He'd just been 
given a new contract at more money, 
most of his demands had been met, and 
the studio thought he should be very 
happy. Here's his explanation: 

"A name is an asset, whether it's 
Cooper or Taylor or Temple or Mac- 
Murray or Raft. I was signed because 
my name meant something. What hap- 
pened? I was given an inexperienced 
girl for leading woman and presented 
with a director who was making his first 
start. Was that sensible? 

"I don't know everything. Far from 
it. I'm still in a fog after six years. I 
need bright people around me, experi- 
enced people, if I'm to make good pic- 
tures, and live up to a name that has 
value. Rather than perhaps make a bad 
picture, I walked out." 

Similar circumstances prompted him 
to take a breath of fresh air several 
years ago when he was presented with 
the lead in "The Story of Temple 

"The character was too heavy," 
George says. "He wasn't me." 

In "Bolero" he believed sincerely that 
his lines made mock of his religion. He 
tried to point this out to a producer. 
The producer didn't think so. What 
was worse, he wouldn't listen to the 
Raftian arguments. That hurt George's 

"I blew up," says George. "I had to. 
I was on the defensive. And I won my 

George has little ego about his work. 
He's willing to listen to suggestions be- 
cause he's gotten where he has by lis- 
tening. But he shoots at the bull's-eye. 
The minute he finds anyone not playing 
fair he crosses him off the list. 

"Tell me what's good for me, show me 
why it's good for me, and I'm grateful," 
he says. 


ODAY, more than ever before, George 
is a sort of Hollywood ghost. For in- 
stance, he seems to appear from no- 
where to attend Hollywood boxing 
matches, or Los Angeles baseball games. 
Debonair. Silent. White of face. Sleek 
of hair. Then, after the show is over he 
vanishes. When he leaves, or where he 
goes, is mystery. 

Few people ever have invaded his 
penthouse atop an exclusive apartment 
hotel in Hollywood. Virginia Pine. Bert 
and Sally Wheeler. Harry Akst, the 
composer. The ubiquitous Mack Gray. 
Perhaps one or two others. Business 
callers are directed to his dressing room. 

He has gratified that ambition to go 
it alone, be alone. Perhaps, right now 
in this period following the death of his 
mother, he is too much alone, for the 
armor which surrounds his instinctive 
friendliness has been hardened by the 
years. The glazed front is mistaken for 
the man behind it. 

George met Virginia Pine, who has a 
daughter, now five and a half years old, 
at a cocktail party given by Edith Wil- 
kerson several years ago. He fell in love 
with her. Years and complications have 
not dimmed the romance on his part. 

And George's heart has opened to 
little Joan. 

His last present to her was a minia-' 
ture but practical organ. George is sun| 
she'll be a musician. Clothes, toys anc 
other gifts he has showered abundantly 
on this child. The affection between the 
two is as great as that between Wallj 
Beery and the famous Carol Ann Beery 
his adopted daughter. 

"George is silly about the kid. Nut; 
about her," says Mack. "What does he 
do when he's home? I walk into the 
house and what do I see? Georgie 
down on his hands and knees playing 
hide-and-seek. Can you imagine Geor- 
gie sitting on the floor playing Old Maid 
and Casino? Boy, that's something!" 

When George works, Joan comes onto 
the sets. Joan goes to lunch and to din- 
ner with George and Virginia. 

She represents to George something 
the fates have withheld. 

"There's nothing I've got," he says,- 
and means it, "that that kid can't have." 

That's George's sentimental side at] 
■work again. 

He's finding release for emotions 
which have been checked for an entire 
lifetime. One of the penalties for this 
fellow who has gone from Grade 6-B to 
international acclaim is that he has not 
filled the dream of having children of 
his own. 

OEORGE is charity personified. When 
a picture is finished, the men who've 
worked with him find rewards. Too, 
there are men in Hollywood who once 
had things they haven't now. But they 
have George's help because, somewhere 
in the dim and distant past, they've 
helped him. 

And his charity takes more than 
monetary form. 

Mae West has made millions in Holly- 
wood. All was quiet on Broadway for 
her when George read the script of 
"Night After Night." 

He insisted: 

"Get Mae West for that part. She's 
the only one who can do it." 

How she did it, proving his judgment, 
paying tribute to his faith, is legend. 

George demanded Olympe Bradna for 
"Souls At Sea" because he felt she, too, 
should have a chance. He argued with 
Henry Hathaway, the director, got her, 
and she fulfilled his hopes. 

Once he employed Margo as a dancing 
partner. He begged Paramount to sign 
her, got no action. 

The company paid her five times the 
figure she'd asked, much later, to work 
in "Rhumba." 

George is inherently a gentleman. He 
has a consideration of others, and their 
rights, which lifts him into that class. 
For instance, when he protests he isn't 
working, he adds: 

"Fifty other guys aren't working, 
either. Give me a job and give them a 

As he sketches the plans for his home 
he points out: 

"Here's the room for a child, if there 
is one. It'll be quiet. The kid won't be 
disturbed if the older people stay up at 

Hollywood today hasn't scratched the 
surface of its mystery man. His comings 
and goings are still wraithlike. Few 
know, or have tried to find out, what 
lies behind that set, unemotional sur- 

Sentiment? A sensitive nature? A 
dislike of being alone? 

Hollywood smiles its disbelief. 

Yet, deep in his heart, the man who 
walks by himself wants to be hailed — 
"Hi, Georgie!" 


We Cover the Studios 

(Continued jrom page 53) 

a 18-day diet. They finally have to 
\f him off the set before he starts 
irhing the camera. The scene is a 
rlete success. 

]|umbia is also making "Penitenti- 
Vwith Walter Connolly, Jean Parker 
Ij'ohn Howard — a 1938 version of one 
1 first prison-play hits, "The Crim- 
Eode." We step inside a prison. 
'1-ee hundred men, all dressed in 
ret uniforms, stand in the prison 
c yammering. Connolly, as the 
rjsn, comes out on some steps, then 
vjy walks down through the mob of 
s ious men. As he walks along, they 
1 monotonously, threatening, "Yah! 
hi Yah! Yah!" Time and again, the 
ij has to be made. The men have to 
t'ate a sense of yammer. 

1 Paramount, where we stop next, 

Itep into a Parisian department . 

n It is the set of "Bluebeard's 

Ih Wife," costarring Claudette Col- 

tlmd Gary Cooper. 

ry is standing at a haberdashery 

i;er. (He will meet Claudette here, 

ij) A sissified salesman is trying to 

;j'st him in neckties, shirts, socks, 

a-have-you. Gary listens, pained; 

i/ suggests he'd like a pair of pa- 

lj. "Cut," says Lubitsch, who has 

unconsciously mimicking the ex- 

ons of both players. 

it door, on the set of "The Big 

least of 1938," we find ourselves on 

eck of a modernistic ocean liner 

ined by W. C. Fields (back in 

again) . Most of the musical-com- 

alent of Paramount is aboard, in- 

ig Martha Raye, who is really suf- 

* for her art today. 

her posterior section is attached a 

e board, with roller-skate wheels 

four corners. Six sailors pick her 

f arms and legs, swing her in the 

ae-two-three, then send her rolling 

5 the deck. They roll her too far 

rst time, not far enough the second 

Martha looks pained as they line 

)r a third try. We tell her so. 

ays, "I jeel pained." 

go out to Hal Roach Studios to see 

icture with which he hopes to top 

}er." Its title is "Merrily We Live." 

i Constance Bennett is starred, this 

ijwith Brian Aherne. Also present 

Uan Mowbray, Billie Burke and 

a Granville. 

ide a huge sound stage we see the 
dor of a big Colonial mansion. At 
ar right is the mansion's garage, 
Colonial in design. 
1?re are living quarters here, pine- 
{ed. And it is here that Connie has 
Warily housed Brian. She likes 
•j though the rest of the family, fil- 
ing the butler (Mowbray), thinks 
acrazy. We see Mowbray approach 
ine's door, carrying a newly pressed 
He knocks, starts to enter, then 
5S, shocked, on the threshold, 
ne stands before a mirror shaving 

— at the same time shouting theatrically 
and flourishing his razor. 

The audience, who will not see 
Aherne, has to read Mowbray's mind 
by looking at his back. 


\T 20th Century-Fox, on the set of 
"Sally, Irene and Mary," there is news. 
Her name is Marjorie Weaver. After her 
performance in "Second Honeymoon," 
Marjorie Weaver looks like one of the 
next stars. She plays Mary, the role that 
made Joan Crawford famous in the first 
version. Alice Faye is Sally. Joan Davis 
is Irene. 

The real story behind Marjorie Weaver 
is the story of her stand-in, Judi Parks. 
The two girls roomed together in col- 
lege. It was Judi who sent Marjorie's 
picture to the beauty contest that led, in 
time, to the movies' finding her. Judi 
talked Marjorie into accepting the offer 
of a screen test, then accepting a screen 
offer, then staying in Hollywood when 
her first option wasn't picked up. "If 
she had my ambition for her, plus her 
looks and her talent, where would Garbo 
be?" asks Judi. 

We ask Fred Allen in what ways the 
new version of this backstage musical 
comedy differs from the old. "This," 
says that demon ad-libber, drily, "is the 
streamlined version. They've changed 
everything but the title, and they're 
thinking of leaving the comma out of 

This ad-libbing is contagious. When 
the cameraman signifies he is ready, by 
dinging twice on his bell, Director Wil- 
liam Seiter pipes up, "Don't ring two 
bells. Ring four. This is a four-bell 


^T the far end of the M-G-M lot, 
Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy 
are christening a gigantic new sound 
stage with "Girl of the Golden West," 
from the operetta of the same name 
(new music added). Director Robert Z. 
Leonard is putting the pair through 
their paces. 

The locale is the gold-rush country in 
1848. Today's setting is the barroom over 
which Jeanette holds sway. Its archi- 
tecture is rough and ready. Robust 
signs decorate the wall. 

The air in the room is blue with 
smoke. A special kind of smoke, we 
discover. It comes out of a hose, not 
from pipes, cigarettes or cigars. It is 
medicated smoke. Singers cry for it. 

Jeanette, very beautiful in rough 
Western garb, is behind the bar, serving 
customers. Beside her is the barkeep — 
Billy Bevan, old-time comedy star. In 
front of the bar stand two tall grizzled 
men. One is Francis Ford, onetime 
"serial king." The other is Walter 
James, onetime big name on Broadway. 
The scene is finished without any trou- 
ble, and we back out, dash to our trusty 
typewriter to get the news off to you. 
More next month! 

'I met them as I drove along a country road . . . the farmer, 
his wife and the boy ... the boy was drunk ... he babbled 
... I stopped and offered assistance . . . Said the father 
sternly, 'He is in no fit shape to get into anyone's car'; said 
the mother, 'He's only a little sick'; said the boy — " 

There you have excerpts from a fascinating story presenting new 
ight on the value of the motion picture — by the renowned novelist, 


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The Romance of Claudette Colbert's 
Second Honeymoon 

(Continued from, page 21) 

she picked up a movie magazine that 
had not a single picture of her, or any 
mention of her name, in it) she was in 
a kind of unthinking, jellylike state- 
content to browse endlessly in places 
like Shanghai and Bali. But for the last 
part of the tour she worried like mad; 
in Vienna and Budapest and Prague and 
Naples she fretted until, when finally 
she arrived in Boston, she was con- 
vinced that both the theater-going pub- 
lic and her own studio were through 
with her as an actress. 

She was almost right on both scores. 
America, without being at all vicious, 
had simply forgotten her. As for her 
employers, they had been thoroughly 
annoyed at her for taking the trip any- 


URING the next seven years Clau- 
dette's life changed completely. 

By work and clever showmanship she 
not only saved her career but made her- 
self one of the greatest stars in Holly- 

Her marriage with Norman folded 
for personal reasons. She discovered 
Jack Pressman, married him, built an 
enormous house to live in (you can see 
the picture of this house on page 44), 
and was content again. 

But now, after so many years of slav- 
ing to make both her professional and 
private life successful, she wants — and 
deserves — a reward: this trip is the 
present she is giving herself as a sym- 
bol that she has finished a good job, 
and done it well. 

There is another reason. Jack has 
never been to Europe, has never had a 
vacation in all his fifteen years of doc- 
toring; and Claudette, for the first time 
since she married him, has taken things 
into her own hands. 

It is she who has talked him into this 
trip. And it will be her own great per- 
sonal pleasure to show him the Con- 
tinent she knows so well. 


HEY will be away three months. The 
itinerary, as they planned it before they 
left Hollywood and as Claudette ex- 
plained it to me, goes completely back- 
ward from that other trip made seven 
years ago. 

The change is based on no sentimental 

She and Norman were interested in 
Bali, as a Pacific Paradise, then; it was 
a younger, less sophisticated reason for 
a journey. 

She and Jack, this time, will go di- 
rectly to New York, spend a day there 
— but not to shop: shopping is taboo 
during the entire three months — and 
then take a fast steamer for Genoa. 

This stage of the trip is known terri- 
tory, to be covered as quickly, and with 
as much diverting luxury, as possible; 
so it will be the Super Chief and the 
S.S. Rex, then, as far as Italy. 

At Genoa, into the car and out to ob- 
livion — for, in Europe, when you come 
rolling through a town and stop for 
petrol the last thing the natives believe 
is that you are a famous actress. Stars 
travel by plane, encumbered by maids 
and secretaries and publicity agents; 
seldom by husbands. 

It will be a glorious interlude, that 
drive to St. Moritz. There will be no 
hurry, no necessity for anything except 
to see all there is to see and taste every 
kind of food available and sample all 
the wines. If a rutted side road 
branches suddenly from their highway 

and loses itself in a fascinating li 
valley, they'll follow it; if a village p 
sesses some special charm for th 
they will give it a day — or a week- 
their personal attention. Time, dui 
that period, will have ceased to 

At St. Moritz they'll store the car, 
cause of the snow, and push on, 
whatever conveyance is available, to 
Anton in Austria. 

A man named Hans Schneider ke 
the world's most famous ski school in 
Anton, and Claudette and Jack have 
ready enrolled there for three week; 

"We both know a little about sk 1 
but we've got to learn how to fall c 
rectly," she explained to me. "Ja 
quite convinced he'll never be abk 
learn how to stop except by plun§ 
into the snow — his idea of skiing i; 
get at the top of a hill, slide down, 
fall at the bottom. That's about w 
I do, too — except that both of us tun 

"I land on my face and he goes ba 

"Then, after the three weeks are 
we'll go back to St. Moritz and si 
off, because we'll be so wonderful 

Back through Italy by motor ag 
and thence to Cairo: "Or bust," 
Claudette. "Jack's still a little unc 
tain about the idea of going to Eg 
but I'm holding out. I want to go 
the Nile." 


HERE is something a little iron: 
and amusing — in the picture of Ceci 
De Mille's CZeopatra in a dahabeah 
the ancient Nile; a Cleopatra, clot! 
by Banton, visiting the ruins of a terr 
where once the lovely queen dissol 
her pearls in vinegar. 

There, along that trail where once 
daughter of the Ptolemy's messeng 
rode their horses to a lather, a mot 
cycle speeds bringing radiograms 
Cleopatra Colbert, world-famous mc 
star of 1938. ... Ah well! 

When the Pressmans become bo 
with crocodiles, they will return 
civilized Marseilles, where their car ' 
await them. 

Next, they will motor through Fra 
to Paris. (As long as she lived abr 
Claudette still does not know what 
French countryside looks like exc 
from train windows.) They might go 
plane, because Jack wants to, but 
will use her last breath protesting. 

Man, feels Claudette, is not yet re; 
to fly. 

They will have two weeks in Pa 
Claudette's old home. She will 
Jack's guide there, showing him 
house where she was born and 
parks she played in and the parts 
the city she treasures; then off to L 
don for seven days, and sail from th 
for New York. 

If she's lucky, another Colbert i 
ture will be started in June. To her 
— with her fingers crossed — she is s 
ing, "They'll wait for me. Nice, gl 
public— they'll wait." They will, ij 

And where Claudette has the rub 1 
the whole situation is that even a r 
she and Jack have returned she'll ! ' 
be on her second honeymoon, still - 
having a magnificent time, still be 1 
love and loved and outrageously havf 
— all the rest of her life. 


Parsons" painted across the back like 
larion Davies', Norma Shearer's and 
,ther big shots' chairs. I was beginning 
b wonder if I could get away with a 
fttle temperament when my secretary 
(aid, "Come over here and see what you 
i It was a portable dressing room with 

huge bouquet of flowers, a typewriter, 
nd a telephone— the only telephone ever 
>ut in a stage dressing room on the 
Varner lot. 

"Compliments of Hal Wallis," read the 
ard. "We hope this will make your 
lewspaper job easier." 

Bless him and the Warner executives 
or thinking of this temporary office! 
n the days that followed this little 
Iressing room was to be a life saver be- 
ause my daily column was usually 
written between scenes on the set. 

That isn't the half of it either. Jack 
Varner, before his departure for Eu- 
ope, had arranged for me, to have a 
uite of rooms — a kitchen with a frigid- 
ire, a sitting room, bath and dressing 
oom. My maid, Sadie, who has been 
vith me eleven years, was so impressed 
vith all this grandeur that she started 
Iressing the part of a movie star's maid. 
>adie had always been a little jealous 
if her friends who work for the glamour 
;irls; but Sadie's field day came when 
'>86,000 worth of jewels were ordered for 
ne to wear in the Orchid Room scenes 
—along with a couple of detectives to 
?uard them. The news was flashed by 
( elephone all over Beverly Hills and by 
light the Lombard maid was all upset. 
It seemed Carole has only worn $85,999 
Lvorth of real jewels to date. 

|T may have been a field day for Sadie 
o see me bejeweled and befurred with 

(Continued from page 19) 

a real chinchilla wrap, but it was no 
holiday for me. I was followed by the 
most persistent Irish detective I ever 
met in my life. There are moments 
when a lady has to be alone, even if 
she's not a Garbo, but even these 
weren't sacred! 

My most embarrassing moment, how- 
ever, didn't come from the policeman's 
concentrated attentions, but from my 
face-lift that broke and went boom right 
in the middle of a take. 

We were filming a scene supposedly 
taking place in front of a theater where 
a premiere was in progress. I had to say 
a few words over the microphone. I had 
just smirked in acknowledgment of the 
applause, and even signed a few auto- 
graphs, when pop went the strings on 
my head. My face fell a foot. The 
roars of laughter that followed made 
even Busby Berkeley forget that his 
million-dollar picture was eighteen days 
behind schedule. 

Buz, when I whispered my troubles to 
him, insisted my face, lifted or not lifted, 
looked just the same to him. He urged 
me to go on with the scene but Perc 
Westmore had made me glamour-con- 
scious and I wasn't going to face the 
camera with a string dangling from my 
hair. So we took time out to fix the 

That evening at dinner I told my sad 
story to Clark Gable. His laughter 
could have been heard all over Holly- 

"Don't think," said Clark between 
gasps, "that you have a monopoly on 
those accidents. When I first came to 
Hollywood an inspired director decided 
my ears were too prominent to make me 
a popular hero so he ordered them tied 
back with adhesive tape. 

"All went well until I had to go into 
a passionate love scene. Z-zzzzt went the 
plaster and my right ear sprang loose. 
You can imagine how romantic I was 
with one ear glued to my head and 
the other swaying in the breeze." 

We all howled at Clark and may I add 
here that he is one of the few actors 
who would have told that story on him- 
self. Maybe that's why he continues 
at the top of the Hollywood heap. 


O story on "Hollywood Hotel" could 
be complete without describing the 
Orchid Room sequence, the most beau- 
tiful set I have ever seen. All my play- 
mates from the "Hollywood Hotel" 
broadcast figure in this colorful finale. 
For almost the first time since the pic- 
ture started I felt at home when Ken 
Niles, our announcer, said: 

"And now Louella Parsons and her 
guest stars." 

My introduction came from a table 
literally covered with orchids and lillies 
of the valley — only in the real Orchid 
Room we don't have orchids! My big 
moment in the picture was naturally 
in this scene and I hope the millions of 
listeners-in each week on the "Holly- 
wood Hotel" program will find this 
scene exactly as they have always im- 
agined it to be. 

Now that it's all over I wouldn't have 
given up my experience in picture- 
making for anything under the sun. 
From it I learned how difficult it is to 
be an actress and why it is that so 
many are called but so few are chosen. 
I was really grateful for this chance to 
be on the other side of the camera in 
my one and only motion-picture ap- 

lucer Arthur Hornblow when it was 
mnounced that they had up and done it. 

You would have been even more 
jealous had you been in Ensenada when 
t happened. They had a whale of a 
:ime. No one recognized them, but all 
pi Ensenada knew that here was a 
,young couple about to be married. 
[That's all a Mexican needs to declare a 
national holiday. They immediately 
gave their undivided attention to the job 
jin hand, with all the critical friendliness 
of intimates. 

The Hornblows were married by the 
Alcalde in an office that can be likened 
jonly to the bottom of an elevator shaft, 
jso high is the ceiling, so constricted the 
[floor space. In sonorous Spanish the 
Alcalde intoned the lovely ceremony, 
[pausing appropriately for the wholly su- 
perfluous official interpreter's interjec- 

There would be a flow of liquid 
Spanish and a pause. The interpreter 
would glance over the Alcalde's shoul- 
Ider, gauge the place by the Alcalde's 
thumb and comment briskly, "Do you 
Itake this guy to be your husband?" 
More lingual beauty followed the re- 
sponse. "Do you want to marry this 
lady, huh?" 

And then the Alcalde really got in the 
groove. He gave it the works and the 
I bridal party was quite affected — only to 
come back to earth as the bored inter- 
preter hurried away to his work, calling 
from the door, "He says it's all right 

(Continued from page 27) 

But that's not the end of it. No, in- 
deed! Meanwhile Arturo had snapped 
across the street to the carniceria for a 
sack of rice — and the owner refused to 
be paid when he learned that it was for 
a wedding, not eating. Not only that, 
he, himself, seized a sack and followed 
Arturo back across the street, tossing 
the grain about like a flower girl on a 

That, of course, called for drinks at 
the old El Rancho Grande bar. But 
were the newlyweds permitted to buy? 
I should say not! In Mexico? Don't be 
silly! Practically every town official 
stood for at least one round, and Javier, 
the proprietor, became so touched by it 
all that he wanted to give the Horn- 
blows the bar as a wedding present. 


I OW, lest you think that I, myself, am 
on a tequila binge as I write this, let me 
point out that Mexico is not the Is- 
lander's idea of heaven — all free drinks, 
food and affection. Not at all! At least, 
not quite not at all. It depends upon 
the individual. 

Many superior Nordics barge into 
Mexico as if on a slumming expedition 
and take no pains to conceal the fact 
that they believe the proper spelling of 
the word "Mexican" is g-r-e-a-s-e-r 
and should be prefaced by such adjec- 
tives as "lousy," "dirty," or "filthy." 

They can hardly contain themselves 
when they arrive south of the line. They 
disdainfully and angrily stride about the 
streets like strange curs looking for a 

fight, and they can usually get it — on the 
same basis that an intoxicated Mexican 
would get it in Portland, Maine, if he 
adopted the same attitude. 

The people that really get the typical 
reception Mexico has to offer friends are 
the people who come down to Mexico 
because they like it . . . and, strangely 
enough, large sections of the Hollywood 
crowd fall into that category. Reserves 
drop. They are in a foreign and friendly 
land where no one is an undercover man 
for columnists. They are taken at their 
face value. 

If they go on a gentle binge, no one 
will call from the studio the next day 
reminding them of the youth of Amer- 
ica and clause four in the contract, con- 
cerning moral turpitude. 

A certain very well-known leading 
man, who will remain nameless due to 
the aforementioned clause, went on 
what is colloquially known as "uno ron- 
do." And, believe me, it must have been 
a rondo grande! They say that all En- 
senada lined the streets in cheering 
thousands when he finally agreed to re- 
turn to the hotel. After the last bar 
had reluctantly closed due to exhaus- 
tion and the serious depletion of its 
wares, the actor was overwhelmed with 
gratitude for his buenos amigos. 

He must do something for them! 

In the dawn's early light he spied the 
slightly soiled statue of "El Liberator" 
in the plaza. Now, no one knows who 
"El Liberator" is, other than that he 
came from Mexico City with a bill for 


• When people could not write, they used 
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Without Calomel— And You'll Jump 
Out of Bed in the Morning Rarin' to Go 

The liver should pour out two pounds of liquid 
bile into your bowels daily. If this bile is not flow- 
ing freely, your food doesn't digest. It just decays 
in the bowels. Gas bloats up your stomach. You 
get constipated. Your whole system is poisoned 
and you feel sour, sunk and the world looks punk. 

A mere bowel movement doesn't get at the 
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20,000 pesos; but he does cut a lovely 
figure. He'd be lovelier, however, if an 
old family of crows hadn't been using 
him as a pied-a-terre these many years. 

This thought occurred to the swash- 
buckling actor, and he instantly and im- 
periously demanded large quantities of 
soap and water. 

Eager to comply with the slightest 
wish of a guest, the townspeople added 
a painter's spatula to the order and pro- 
ceeded to stand about the plaza in open 
admiration of such industry, as the man 
whose profile has chiseled a million 
feminine hearts chiseled the accumu- 
lated dirt from the face of "El Liber- 

To the simple Mexicans, such a per- 
son is veritably el hombre y medio — a 
man and a half. He is vastly respected 
for his prowess as an imbiber of spirits. 

Let it be clearly understood, however, 
that to gain the heart of our southern 
neighbors you do not have to be able 
to absorb two quarts of tequila on a 
quiet evening at home . . . but you do 
have to be sociable. 


UT all visits to Mexico don't end that 
way, though most of them have their 
unusual twists. George Brent and Con- 
stance Worth flew down there for their 

ill-fated nuptials. They landed in the 
big field just out of town, and sundry 
natives gleefully ran over to welcome 
them and inspect the ship. 

When they learned that it was a 
marriage party, they went mad with 
joy — as usual. While the party was 
filling out the sundry blanks pertaining 
to holy wedlock, the word spread and 
all roads led to the airport. 

The Brents returned to the ship for 
the northward flight to find it complete- 
ly unairworthy due to festooning from 
wing tip to wing tip and prop to tail 
with the old, familiar red, white and 
green crepe paper. 

Surrounding the bedecked craft was 
a crowd of admiring and happily smil- 
ing Mexicans of all ages who hailed the 
bride and groom with delight and rice. 
Brent was in something of a dilemma. 
He couldn't strip the paper off the 
ship without hurting their feelings. His 
Spanish wasn't up to an explanation. 
He couldn't wait until dark, not having 
night-flying instruments. Every abor- 
tive attempt at suggesting the fun was 
over was met with loud and noncom- 
prehending "Huzzahs!" 

Brent knew when he was licked. 

He shrugged, got in the ship, gave it 
the gun. With crepe paper shredding 

Brief Reviews 

lady at a fashionable hotel. Here she comes upon a 
passionate postman, Francliot Tone, and a dizzy 
playboy, Robert Young. Miss Crawford is both 
gracious and compelling, but the weary plot defeats 
all. (Dec.) 


Stuffed with much of Hollywood's best talent, 
this follow-up of "Broadway Melody of 1936" again 
teams Bob Taylor and Eleanor Powell. Bob's role 
as a producer seems lost in the melee of song and 
dance acts, but Eleanor is lithesome as usual and 
George Murphy shines brightly as do Judy Garland, 
Sophie Tucker and others. (Nov.) 


John Howard, Scotland Yard detective who 
always gets his man, here finds himself tangled with 
international crooks who steal a box of high ex- 
plosives — of all things. John Barrymore's banter 
lifts the gloom. Louise Campbell is again Howard's 
sweetheart. (Jan.) 


The smoothness of Warner Oland as Charlie, the 
laughable blunders of son Keye Luke, and the tip- 
top comedy of Harold Huber contribute to make 
this tale of high finance and murder a "best" ( 'han 
story. Virginia Field and Kay Linaker are the 
maids of mystery. (Jan.) 


History, pageantry and romance brought to un- 
paralleled heights of beauty by the peerless acting 
of Greta Garbo and Charles Boyer in one of the 
loveliest of love stories — that of Napoleon and 
Marie Walewska, the patriotic Polish countess who 
bore him a son. The production, photography and 
direction are of the finest, the huge cast including 
Dame May Whitty, Henry Stephenson, Reginald 
Owen and Maria Ouspenskaya is exceptionally 
brilliant. It cost $3,000,000 and it's worth it. (Jan.) 

DANGER-LOVE AT WORK-20th Century-Fox 

In this outlandish story, the mad, modern type of 
comedy so popular at the moment comes a cropper. 
Jack Haley is a lawyer who tries to get a deed signed 
by a screwball family. Mary Boland is good, 
Edward Everett Horton and Ann Sothern worthy 
of mention. There is little excuse for the action. 

(Continued from page 6) 

* EBB TIDE— Paramount 

Robert Louis Stevenson's powerful adventure 
story of human derelicts in the South Seas is filmed 
in Technicolor with masterly direction and a 
notably fine cast including Britain's Oscar Homolka 
(he played Paul Kruger in "Rhodes, The Diamond 
Master"), Ray Milland, Frances Farmer, Barrv 
Fitzg raid and Lloyd Nolan. Story, production 
and acting are outstanding. You can't afford to 
miss this. (Dec.) 


Beverly Roberts plays a movie star on the skids 
in this tiresome pseudo-expose of the Hollywood 
publicity racket. Patric Knowles is the rundown 
nobleman whom she first marries, later deserts for 
her rejuvenated career. You'll see "Expensive 
H usbands" at the expense of a good evening. (Dec.) 

* 52ND STREET-Wanger-United Artists 

This musical saga of America's Montmartre is 
good entertainment. Scattered throughout the 
story of an old New York family's rise and fall when 
their street becomes overrun with speak-easies, are 
specialty numbers galore. The fine cast includes 
Ian Hunter, ZaSu Pitts. Leo Carrillo, Maria Shelton 
and Kenny Baker. (Dec.) 


Add the rowdy comedy of Jack Oakie to the de- 
lightful singing of John Boles and you have enter- 
tainment plus. Oakie is a fight promoter who 
guides his charge from a broken romance into a 
duel, then on to a fresh love. Margot Grahame and 
Ida Lupino are the objects of Mr. Boles' affections. 
A gay and lively farce. (Dec.) 


Replete with the gay situations and dialogue 
that characterized the stage play, this satire on 
Washington intrigue should amuse you. Kay 
Francis, multigowned as usual, does a brilliant 
job as the ambitious wife of politician Preston 
Foster, and Verree Teasdale takes honors as Kay's 
adversary over the teacups. (Nov.) 


Herewith Joe E. Brown in a "you chase me and 
I'll chase you" comedy with all the usual Brown 
antics. Joe is a reporter sent to cover the story of 
a Kansas-born princess (Helen Mack) who is about 
to be assassinated. Poor Joe is scooped at every 
turn. Brown fans will adore every reel. (Dec.) 


Among the current rash of jewel-thief pix this had 
better be ignored. A huge diamond is stolen, and 
Cesar Romero, the most obvious suspect, finds 
romance with Phyllis Brooks. Jane Darwell moves 
ponderously throughout, and Alan Dinehart is a 
heavy heavy. (Dec.) 


The famous Myrna Loy-Bill Powell combin ition 
in a stew of romance and boisterous comedy. Bill 
plays a roustabout adventurer living in a trailer. 
When he lights out for Hollywood with Florence 
Rice and John Beal in tow, the staid Miss Loy 
upsets the applecart. Better go, but don't expect 
perfection. (Dec.) 


George Arliss here plays the usual role of a parson 
by day, a pirate by night. When the revenue 
officers interrupt his peaceful smuggling, murder 
enlivens the proceedings. Margaret Lockwood and 
John Loder bill and coo. The supporting c.i-t is 
splendid. (Jan.) 

Wendy Barrie wins a newspaper away from 
Walter Pidgeon by way of a libel suit and the help 
of Kent Taylor. Such antics can't happen in a 
well-run news office, but the trio provide many 
laughs, so who cares? George Barbier as Wendy's 
pa is a riot. (Jan.) 


Set against the colorful background of the 
Eighteenth Century, this centers around the per- 
sonality of England's greatest actor, David 
Garrick, played by Brian Aherne. The plot in- 
volves the efforts of the actors of the Comedie 
Francaise to make a fool of David by hiring an inn, 
manning k with their troupe. Olivia De Havilland. 
as Garrick's lady love, is completely devastating. 

* HEIDI— 20!h Century-Fox 

A favorite of old and young is this tender little 
story of an orphan who brings a new hope into the 
life of a bitter recluse, and health and happiness to 
a crippled child. Shirley Temple, more grown-up, 

all over the field in the slip stream le 
took off like a tattered wizard of '<] 
amid the frenzied acclaim of the mi I 
tude. The ship was badly off bala e . 
despite the fact that Brent could id 
nothing wrong with the controls or 
faces. Considerably worried, they 1 
on and Brent trimmed her dowr v 
compensate for the invisible obsta<< 
He was soon rather appalled to find 8 
ship acting in an even more err j 
manner. As far as he could see, e 
ship was clear of festoons, but e\ v 
time he'd trim her down she'd w p 
off center again. 

It was a nervy trip back to Burbf; 

When they set her down at Un 
Airport they found out the cause, 
outraged mechanic came yelling acq 
the field after them, demanding 1 ( 
they take care of their own so-ancj 
livestock. This was an airport, nc 
ranch, said he! It seems that a Mexit 
in the transports of matrimonial g. 
had presented the Brents with their 1 1 
wedding present, which was stowed v'l 
away in the tail of the ship for se- 

It was a very much alive nim 
pounds of extremely indignant ] . 
thrashing about in the rear assemi 
of the fuselage! 

still retains her warmth and sweetness; J 
Hersholt. Mady Christians, Mary Nash and Ma 
Mae Jones are excellent support. The best Ten: 
picture to date. (Jan.) 

* HURRICANE, THE -Sam Goldwyn-Uni 

With a wind machine for a star and the Pac 
for a set, Director John Ford has concocted a st ; 
ning picture of adventure and love among 
natives of the South Seas. Newcomer Jon Bl 
shows ability as well as most of his excell 
anatomy; Dorothy Lamour is beautiful as 
Island princess; the star-studded cast inclu 
Raymond Massey, Mary Astor and C. Aub 
Smith. The hurricane is awe-inspiring. \ 
mustn't miss it. (Jan.) 


The natrrral scenic beauty here far surpasses 1 
story of a girl (Irene Hervey) who fights when I 
favorite fishing haunt is threatened by the ind 
trial engineering of Kent Taylor. The dam is hu 
the salmon are saved, the lovers are happy. So 
fun, eh? (Jan.) 

LANCER SPY-20th Century-Fox 

If you like espionage thrillers, you won't go wroi 
here. George Sanders (remember him as the bar; 
some villain in "Lloyds of London"?) all but ... 
the World War by impersonating a captur 
Prussian officer in Berlin. Dolores Del Rio betra' 
her Fatherland for hopeless love. Exceptional 
fine cast. (Dec.) 


Edward G. Robinson returns once more to t' 
role that made him famous in this magnificent 
effective but somewhat brutal picture. Returnii 
from Europe with his bride, he discovers rivn 
muscling in, kills them, goes to prison, is finah, 
forced to disgorge his hoarded gold to save his i 
and son. Rose Stradner, the new Viennese actre:' 
is exceptional; the cast, including Jimmy Stewar 
Douglas Scott and Lionel Stander, extremely abl 


Spouting energy and madness from every por. 
the Ritz Brothers literally bludgeon you im 
laughter in this All-American football musical bui 
around a washed-up coach, Fred Stone, and a rit 
Indian who saves Stone's reputation for "dear ol 
Lombardy." Joan Davis does a Martha Ray 
Gloria Stuart pairs with newcomer Dick Baldwi 
for romance. (Dec.) 


Joe Penner's juvenile whimsey. Gene Raymond 
blond hair and a half-dozen famous comedians ar 
high-lighted in this L rather good musical. Harrk 
Milliard, a socialite in search of a career, is Ras 
mond's cookie, and you'll laugh at Billy Gilber 
Helen Broderick and Parkyakarkus. (Nov.) 


A smart and wisecracking comedy which idealize 
art for art's sake and scoffs at filthy lucre, this ha 
Bob Montgomery marrying heiress Rosalin. 
Russell. Fame and a scheming Helen Vinso 
almost ruin his marriage, but Bob Benchley, hi 
faithful but boozy friend, finally rights matters. A! 
the performances are superior. (Jan.) 


You'll enjoy this smart little story of a workin, 
boy, James Dunn, and a working girl, Whitne: 
Bourne, who share the same basement room with 
out ever seeing one another. When tney eventuall: 
meet, the fireworks begin. It's fun. (Jan.) 


DOK OUT, MR. MOTO— 20th Century-Fox 

jOur litte Japanese detective, Peter Lorre, has to 
!>k out for everyone including himself in this 
jkum tale of high treason, murder and the mishaps 
tnewsreel men in Siam. Rochelle Hudson, Robert 
: ;nt and Chick Chandler are around. (Jan.) 


iA new star, Ronald Reagan, makes his bow in 
is tale of radio. As Uncle Andy of the kiddies' 

Iur, he finds himself plunged into a gangster's 
r. June Travis, as his girl friend, is attractive, 
maid himself is excellent, and the cast is okay 
.. (Nov.) 

colorful drama, its beautiful settings, the realistic 
acting of Ronald Colman as King and commoner, 
and the gracious beauty of Madeleine Carroll as 
Princess Flavia. Raymond Massey is^ outstanding 
as the King's Machiavellian brother, and Doug 
Fairbanks, Jr. is a deep-dyed villain. Go and 
renew your youth. (Nov.) 

SECOND HONEYMOON-20ih Century-Fox 

Charming, amusing, utterly romantic, this again 
teams Tyrone (what a man!) Power and Loretta 
Young in a modern story of what the moon will do 
over Miami to an ex-husband meeting his ex-wife 
who has ^ince remarried. Stu Erwin and Mariorie 
Weaver form a hilarious secondary team. Watch 
Weaver's star rise! (Jan.) 

No matter how many times you have seen this $HE ASKED FQ R IT Paramount 

nous tear-jerker you will weep again at this new 
rsion. Gladys George is simply brilliant as the 
sunderstood wife who becomes a dissolute 
ttern. John Heal as her son and Warren William 
her coldly moral husband are both exceptional. 



One of the weaker Bobby Breen vehicles, this 
ices the singing boy to a Maine camp where his 
very voice inspires virtuoso Basil Rathbone to 
fish an opera. Marion Claire is Bobby's mother. 
tu'Il find the music easy to hum. {Nov.) 


JLoaded with the iron weight of faulty story 
instruction, this "who dunnit" tale sinks to the 
lltom and stays there. Lewis Stone is the pro- 
tional murder confessor who involves his son, 
jm Brown, in his evil ways. Morbid and un- 
jpired. (Nov.) 

MERRY-GO-ROUND OF 1938— Universal 

Composed of much unoriginal hokum, a few good 
les, a nice clean romance and a variety of mad 
seplay. this emerges as good entertainment. The 
ry concerns a group of vaudeville troupers who 
e on the task of bringing up an orphan. Bert 
Sir, Jimmy Savo, Mischa Auer, Louise Fazenda, 
ce Brady, Billy House, John King, and Joy 
dges outdo themselves to make you laugh. (Jan). 


i.Vith a quip on his lips and determination in his 
irt, Dick Arlen, artist photographer, leaps into a 
rder mystery to shield Fay Wray. They fight, 
ke up, and solve everything. Stupid. (Jan.) 


Slino Martini's famous voice counteracts the 
.lkness of this wandering story about a singer 

u<ed of stealing a pearl necklace. Alan Mow- 
cy's satirical take-off of a noted symphonic con- 
dor is amusing; Joan Fontaine is pretty and the 

llywood Bowl scenes are impressive. You'll like 

■ music. (Dec.) 


Don't see this unless you're in a tolerant mood. 
^ a minor newspaper hodgepodge in which 
tureen O'Sullivan inherits "The Globe," falls 
llove with editor Walter Pidgeon. Edna May 
ver provides the only vitality. (Nov.) 


'redit for this fine football picture backgrounded 
Annapolis is due primarily to the fine perform- 
es of Robert Young, Jimmy Stewart and Tom 
>wn. Coming from very different environments, 
boys finally adjust themselves to life and to 
: h other. Billie Burke, Florence Rice and Lionel 
irrymore each contribute splendidly. (Jan.) 


"here's one thing this picture has plenty of — and 
t's suspense. Blonde Anna Lee is the English 
rine wanted in America as witness to a murder. 

■ manages by a clever ruse to outwit gangsters 
3 seek to detain her, hops a transatlantic plane, 
ikes life miserable for John Loder, Scotland Yard 
odhound. Desmond Tester is perfect as the in- 
sitive child prodigy. (Dec.) 

100 MEN AND A GIRL Universal 

rlere is practically a perfect picture, combining 
it does an ingenuously new and fresh story built 
und unemployed musicians, Deanna Durbin's 
rancing singing, and the superb rendition of 
,ie of the world's loveliest classical music by 
Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra conducted 
i Leopold Stokowski. See this if you don't see 
>ther picture this year. (Nov.) 

ER THE GOAL-Warners 

fere i< an antique yarn built around a college 
o, \\ illiam Hopper, who is called upon to decide 
ween June Travis and his alma mater. He man- 
s to have his cake and eat it too. Johnnie Davis' 
|t singing livens things up generally. (Jan.) 


Drrol Flynn takes this high-voltage comedy in 
stride, portraying the heir to 830,000,000 who 
been shut away from the world, educated by 
tyrant grandmother (May Robson) to be "the 
feet specimen" of his class. Joan Blondell lures 
1 out of his cocoon, teaches him really to live. 
k Foran, Edward E. Horton, Allen Jenkins and 
rerly Roberts all contribute. Fast, furious and 
ny. (Dec.) 


.n engrossing modern courtroom story based on 
lother-love angle,. but not too maudlin about it. 
1 (i.i Inescort is splendid as the criminal lawyer 
i i successfully defends the killer of her ex-hus- 
Ijid, wins back her own son by her brilliance and 
& rage. Walter Abel and Ruth Donnelly are out- 
aiding support. Worthwhile. (Jan.) 

United Artists 

'his second screening of Anthony Hope's 
W :ran adventure story will thrill you with its 

Although as cinema, this is good hash, there is an 
invigorating silly angle to the murder mystery 
theme. William Gargan is the writer of blood 
thrillers who gets himself involved in the real 
McCoy. Orien Heyward is pretty as his wife, 
but by no means another Duse. (Nov.) 


There are a lot of thrills in this inside story of a 
modern fire company. Smart-aleck Dick Foran 
saves the life of Robert Armstrong, is brought off 
his high horse by Armstrong's sister, Ann Sheridan. 
Interesting and educational. (Jan.) 


James Cagney's latest picture presents him as a 
New York hoofer gone Hollywood. Evelyn Daw, 
a charming new singer, is his bride; Mona Barrie 
the actress-temptress, Gene Lockhart the mulish 
producer. Well recommended. (Nov.) 


There is almost nothing good that can be said for 
this jumbled, confused, dull, utterly uninteresting 
picture. Gertrude Michael is the beautiful re- 
formed jewel thief accused of stealing the Rajah's 
diamond. You simply don't care whether she did 
or not. (Nov.) 


The hullabaloo of a theatrical boardinghouse is 
the background of this great story of young 
actresses who battle Broadway for minor fame and 
a scant living. Ginger Rogers gives an excellent 
account of herself in a dramatic role; Katharine 
Hepburn does fine work, Andrea Leeds almost 
steals the show, and Adolphe Menjou as the 
philandering producer is highly amusing. Director 
LaCava deserves orchids for a brilliant picture. 
Don't miss it. (Nov.) 

* STAND-IN-Wanger-United Artists 

C. B. Kelland's swell story of a narrow-minded 
banker (Leslie Howard) who invades Hollywood to 
save a studio from financial ruin. Joan Blondell is 
extra special as the former baby star who teaches 
Howard that all figures do not have mathematical 
connotations, and Maria Shelton as the glamour 
gal he compromises does grand work. Warning: 
don't believe all this picture tells you about Holly- 
wood. (Dec.) 

* THIN ICE 20th Century-Fox 

A happy combination of romance and music, 
spectacle and comedy, starring Sonja Henie, the 
dazzling little Queen of the leeways, and handsome, 
gangling Tyrone Power. There arc four magnif- 
icent skating sequences and you'll appreciate the 
humor of Arthur Treacher, Raymond Walburn and 
Joan Davis. Simply elegant. (Nov.) 


A nicely scored and mildly entertaining musical, 
this permits Betty Grable, a theater usherette, to 
fall in love with crooner Buddy Rogers, usurp his 
place as stage attraction number one. Mary 
Livingstone smart-cracks, Ned Sparks dead-pans, 
and Fibber McGee and Molly (of radio) add their 
bit of fun. (Dec.) 


A pathetically thin story of a pair of hoofers 
trying to marry off the dumb-dora of their act, this 
hotchpotch begins nowhere and ends there. The 
Yacht Club Boys, Eleanore Whitney, Johnny 
Downs and Ben Blue are all scrambled together in 
this. (Jan.) 


Enormously amusing because of the way it is 
played, but rather antisocial in theme, this depicts 
the misadventures of a congenital liar, Carole 
Lombard, who confesses to a murder she did not 
commit in order to give her struggling young lawyer 
husband (Fred MacMurray) some publicity. John 
Barrymore and Una Merkel are grand in secondary 
roles. (Jan.) 

* WIFE, DOCTOR AND NURSE-20th Century- 

With a simplicity and lack of melodramatics that 
make an outstandingly convincing portrait of 
hospital life, Director Walter Lang has created a 
superb picture. Warner Baxter is the surgeon, 
Virginia Bruce his assistant, Loretta Young his 
wife. All of them do splendidly. You'll love it. 


This chilling murder mystery is laid in an island 
army post. Boris Karloff is suspected, ot course, 
but it tails to Marie Wilson in her best dumb-cluck 
manner to solve the crime. (Jan.) 


A provocative story theme — an expose of the 
religious cult racket — and George Murphy's nice 
work make this hurried picture entertaining. 
George's philandering wife, Claire Dodd, plays 
hob with his life, and Josephine Hutchinson plays 
hearts with him at the finale. (Nov.) 

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Cal York's Gossip 
from Hollywood 

(Continued from page 72) 


IT'S no use pretending, we simply can't 
grow used to this movie business. For 
instance, on that gay colorful "Robin 
Hood" set, with romance in full bloom 
and ladies and gentlemen in velvet and 
tights, guess what the cast was doing? 

Errol Flynn, who plays Robin Hood, 
had just finished his twenty-third tele- 
phone call from the set that day. All 
twenty-three were about lion dog pup- 
pies and cows and alfalfa for his new 

Lovely Olivia De Havilland was spar- 
ring lightly with Director William 
Keighley and making all sorts of comi- 
cal snouts and side remarks. And Olivia 
in a burgundy velvet train looking so 

A knight of the forest was off in one 
corner drinking hot water and baking 
soda for a hangover and Claude Rains, 
who plays Prince John, was sitting 
quietly by in startling silk tights, read- 
ing a book entitled, "The Care and 
Feeding of Babies." 



OUG FAIRBANKS, JR., has taken 
candid camera shots of Ginger Rogers, 
Lee Bowman and other members of the 
cast of "Having Wonderful Time" from 
the first day's shooting to the last. And 
now, with the aid of dubbed- in sound, 
Doug is said to have the best comedy 
picture in town. 

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cold waters of Lake Arrowhead, un- 
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sound track has accompanied Ginger's 
shivering with the rattle of many bones. 

Doug is being coaxed to show his 
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1 Good Housekeeping I 

HAT has happened to Luise Rainer 
is the question of the month. A year 
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on the M-G-M lot. After three months 
of idleness, her studio now admits they 
have nothing ahead for the little Vien- 
nese. At a recent radio broadcast, Luise 
appeared briefly to announce, in short, 
that she wouldn't appear at all. At least, 
not in the scenes promised the public. 
Her attitude was one of mild indiffer- 

After her sensational work in "The 
Great Ziegfeld" and "The Good Earth," 
the public expected much and are now 
puzzled at her strange fadeout. While 
other foreign stars such as Ilona Mas- 
sey and Hedy LaMarr are being 
groomed for stardom, little Rainer re- 
mains idle. 



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The Shadow Stage 

(Continued from page 56) 


rOR those who like homespun movies 
' woven with sincere and familiar 
threads this story will be entertaining. 
Its sponsors never intended it to be any- 
thing but a simple, wholesome movie 
and as such it is acceptable. Fred Stone 
and Berton Churchill battle for acting 
honors, the former defending small- 
town rights against the intrigue of ? 
high pressure, big city promoter. Dor- 
othy Moore makes a favorable screer 
debut. A number of clever youngster; 
are in support. 

THANK YOU, MR. MOTO— 20 Century-Fox 

THIS complicated mixup of villains ant 
' heroes set in a Chinese locale fail ti 
daunt the imperturbable Mr. Moto, Ori 
ental detective. Aided by Thomas Beck 
Mr. Moto tracks down stolen Chines 
scrolls and finishes off Sidney Blackmei 
Jayne Regan is a personable newcomei 
Pauline Frederick is splendid as a Chi 
nese princess. 


THERE is something in these home 
' little dramas dealing with simple, hu 
man emotions. A family consisting c 
father Lewis Stone, mother Fay Holdei 
son Mickey Rooney and daughte 
Cecilia Parker set off for a Catalin 
vacation. When Mickey and Cecili 
each become involved in exciting ro 
mances, it's father Stone who comes 1 
the rescue. Laughs and tears aboum 
Mickey, as usual, gives a very fine per 


A MERRY little mix-up with Fran 
' * Morgan as a lovable scamp wr 
lives by his wits. Inviting his daughte 
Florence Rice, to come from Americ 
and be married in his chateau, Morga: 
who owns no chateau, is in a mess ur 
til Frenchman John Beal loans him h 
place. Of course Beal and Florence fa 
in love aiding the plot, and your enjoj 
ment thereby. George Givot, Herms 
Bing, Erik Rhodes aid in the fun. 


A LL thanks to Monogram for keepir 
** popular Jackie Cooper on tl 
screen! Parents will approve this mor 
lesson — and children will love the eJ 
citing action provided almost entire 
by youngsters. Newcomer Mauree 
O'Connor sings pleasingly, and Gt 
Usher and Marjorie Main turn in fii 
performances as Jackie's parents. Rol 
ert Emmet O'Connor and Paul Whi 
are outstanding as the sympathetic c< 
and the heroic colored boy. 


THE attachment between Rona 
I Reagan of the U. S. Army and r 
horse, Sergeant Murphy, is the theme 
this mildly stirring tale of army lii 
When Sergeant Murphy sustains a 1 
injury and is condemned to be sold 
auction, Reagan buys the horse for 1 
own and with careful training, teach 
him to become a steeple chaser. Ma 
Maguire, daughter of Colonel Done 
Crisp, provides love interest. 


Casts of Current 

reenplay by Leonard Lee, Hany Ruskin and 
'arion Parsonnet. Suggested by a story by 
lilliam C. White. Directed by William Thiele. 
lie Cast: Ingraham Steward, Frank Morgan; 
i«e Steward, Florence Rice; Bill Cherau, John 
pal; Mrs. Agatha Steward, Janet Beecher; Von 
.ersdorff, Herman Bing; Lefevre, Erik Rhodes; 
\manov, George Givot; Lord Braemer, E. C. 
ive; Horace Miller, Tom Rutherford; Mrs. 
iller, Cora WItherspoon; Clifton Summit t, Regi- 
ld Denny; Sascha, Vladimir Sokoloff; Mr. Miller, 
rlan Briggs. 

I" BIG TOWN GIRL"— 20th Century-Fox — 
reenplay by Lou Breslow and John Patrick, 
iibert Ellis and Helen Logan. Based on original 
bries by Darrell Ware and Frances Whiting 
•id. Directed by Alfred Werker. The Cast: 
iy Loring, Claire Trevor; Mark Tracy, Donald 
loods; Larry Edwards, Alan Dinehart; James 
ead, Alan Baxter; Marty, Murray Alper; Isaiah 
ickenback, Spencer Charters; Mr. Huff, Maurice 
iss; Gas Station Attendant, Irving Bacon; Red 
/ans, George Chandler. 


Screenplay by Theodore Reeves. Directed 
Richard Wallace. The Cast: Ira Collins, 
iward Arnold; Sally Shea, Shirley Ross; Neil 
aham, John Trent; Sheriff Jeff Holloway, Rufe 
avis; Weber and Fields, Themselves; Francis X. 
'jsh, William Frawley; P. J. Quinterfield, Sr., 
ank Craven; "Death Valley Cora" Kenne, Kitty 
elly; P. J. Quinterfield, Jr., John Arthur; Mr. 
ussic, Edward Brophy; Dr. Joseph C. Gillgallon, 
larles Halton; "Eddie" and "Jimmie," The 
idio Rogues; Chester, Frederick Clarke. 

"BOY OF THE STREETS"— Monogram.— 
iginal story by Roland Brown. Screenplay by 
lson Brown and Scott Darling. Directed by 
illiam Nigh. The Cast: Chuck, Jackie Cooper; 
lira, Maureen O'Connor; Julie, Kathleen Burke; 
mrke, Robert Emmett O'Connor; Mary Brennan, 
arjorie Main; Blackie, Hatty Fain; Tim Farley, 
?orge Cleveland; Doctor, Gordon Elliott; Fog 
irn Brennan, Guy Usher; Spike, Paul White; 
>ny, Don Latorre. 

From the story by P. G. Wodehouse. Screenplay 
■ P. G. Wodehouse, Ernest Pagano and S. K. 
luren. Music by George and Ira Gershwin, 
irected by George Stevens. The Cast: Jerry, 
ed Astaire; George, George Burns; Grade, Gracie 
len; Lady Alyce, Joan Fontaine; Keggs, Reginald 
urdiner; Lady Caroline, Constance Collier; 
ggie, Ray Noble; Lord Marshmorelon, Montagu 
jve; Albert, Harry Watson; Madrigal Singer, Jan 
uggan; Waiter Captain, Leonard Mudie; Woman 
Cottage, May Beatty; Midwestern Father, Fred 
lelsey; Midwestern Mother, Cleo Ridgely; Mid- 
hstern Children, Buster Slavin, Bobbie Smith; 
frkins, Violet Seton; Maids, Mary Gordon, 
Larie Marks, Cynthia Westlake; Chauffeur, Bill 
[Brien; Chef, Herrick Herrick; Footman, John 
food; Attendant, Frank Benson; Barker, Charles 

j-GOLDWYN FOLLIES"— Sam Goldwyn- 

nited Artists. — Story by Ben Hecht. Music by 
|eorge and Ira Gershwin. Filmed in Technicolor, 
irected by George Marshall. The cast includes — ■ 
irina, Adolphe Menjou. The Three Ritz Brothers, 
enny Baker, Andrea Leeds, Helen Jepson, Phil 
iker, Ella Logan, Bobby Clark, Jerome Cowan, 
:d The American Ballet, The Gorgeous Goldwyn 
iris, and Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy. 

["HIGH FLYERS"— RKO-Radio.— Screenplay 
r Benny Rubin, Bert Granet and Byron IMorgan. 
used on a play by Victor Mapes. Directed by 
dward Cline. The Cast: Jerry, Bert Wheeler; 
\ierre, Robert Woolsey; Juanita, Lupe Velez; 
flene, Marjorie Lord; Mrs. Arlington, Margaret 
.umont; Dave, Jack Carson; Mr. Arlington, Paul 
jarvey; Mr. Fontaine, Charles Judels; Mr. Panzer, 
acien Prival; Mr. Hartley, Herbert Evans; Stone, 
'erbert Clifton; Chief of Police, George Irving; 
\osun's Mate, Bud Geary; Ship's Officer, Bruce 

:reenplay by Gertrude Purcell and John Twist. 

Lory by Robert Harari and Maxwell Shane, 
irected by Raoul Walsh. The Cast: Suzette, 
ily Pons; Corny, Jack Oakie; Cosmo, Eric Blore; 
lynn, Edward Everett Horton; Jimmy, John 

loward; Mazzini, Eduardo Ciannelli; Mario, Luis 

jlberni; Haig, Vinton Haworth; Jevons, Leonard 


1 "LOOK OUT FOR LOVE"— GB— Story by 
Say Lewis. Scenario by Florence Tranter and 

lonckton Hoffe. Directed by Herbert Wilcox. 

he Cast. Jacqueline, Anna Neagle; Marius 
>ndreani, Tullio Carminati; Nigel Taplo-w, Robert 
Jouglas; Father Donnelly, Horace Hodges; Friends 
j Marius, Grizelda Harvey, Miki Hood; Maid, 
f'avina Craig; Maid, Joan Kemp-Welch; Organ- 
binder's son, Leonard Snelling; Marius' butler, 

rthur Chesney; Snodgrass, Henry Wolston. 

jblic. — Original screenplay by Harry Sauber. 
dapted from the musical revue of the same name 

Iv Frank Hummert. Directed by Charles F. 
iesner. The Cast: Jerry Hart, Phil Regan; Gor- 
»»», Leo Carrillo; Ann Rogers, Ann Dvorak; 

.harlizzini, Tamara Geva; Danny the Duck, James 
leason; Ted Lewis and his orchestra, Themselves; 
ab Calloway and his Cotton Club Orchestra, Them- 
•Ives; Kay Thompson and Her Ensemble, Them- 
■lves; Joe DiMaggio, Joe DiMaggio; Spadoni, 

, enry Armetta; Marlinelti, Luis Alberni; Max 

\erhune. Max Terhune; Frog, Smiley Burnette; 

'puis Prima and His Band, Themselves; J. Henry 
home, Selmer Jackson; Jonathan, Moroni Olsen; 
fi Murray, Eddie Kane; Momma Gordoni, Nellie 

, . Nichols; Michael Angelo, Gennaro Curci; Speed, 
im Finn; Blackie, Al Herman; Baldy, Robert E. 
erry; Eddie, Jack Adair; Jack Jenny and His 

\rchestra. Themselves; The Lalhrops, Themselves; 

: osalean and Seville, Themselves; Dorothy, Thelma 

f 'under; and Gene Autry as Gene Autry. 

1 "NOTHING SACRED" — Selznick-United 
, rtists. — Screenplay by Ben Hecht. Directed by 


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Dr. Dmvner's nurse, Katherine Shelton; Office Boy, 
A. W. Sweatt; Baggage. Man, Olin Howland; 
"Helen of Troy," Betty Douglas; Katherine of 
Russia, Eleanor Troy; "Pocahontas," Monica 
Bannister; "Kalinka," Jinx Falkenberg; "Salome," Lyman; "Godiva" Shirley Chambers; 
Swede Fireman, John Qualen; Dowager, Hedda 
Hopper; Mr. Watson, Clarence Wilson. 

"QUICK MONEY"— RKO-Radio.— Based on 
an original story by Arthur T. Horman. Screen- 
play by Arthur T. Horman, Franklin Coen and 
Bert Granet. Directed by Edward Killy. The 
Cast: Jonas Tompkins, Fred Stone; Mrs. Tomp- 
kins, Dorothy Vaughan; Bluford Smythe, Berton 
Churchill; Ambrose Ames, Paul Guilfoyle; Bill, 
Gordon Jones; Alice, Dorothy Moore; Freddie, 
Sherwood Bailey; Barnsdall, Harlan Briggs; Walker, 
Dick Elliott; Clark, Frank M. Thomas; Woodford, 
Jack Carson; Peter Potter, Fuzzy Knight; Mrs. 
Otis, Kathryn Sheldon; Sheriff, James Farley; 
Clerk, Billy Franey; Bank Clerk, Rene Stone; 
Barber, Frank Rasmussen; School Principal, Henry 
Hall; Jim, Frank Hammond. 

SH! THE OCTOPUS"— Warners.— Original 
screenplay by George Bricker. Adapted from a 
play by Ralph Spencer and a play by Ralph Murphy 
and Donald Gallaher. Directed by William Mc- 
Gann. The Cast: Kelly, Hugh Herbert; Dempsey, 
Allen Jenkins; \'esla Yernoff, Marcia Ralston; 
Paul Morgan, John Eldredge; Captain Hook, 
George Rosener; Mr. Cobb, Brandon Tyman; .4 
stranger, Eric Stanley; Polly Crane, Margaret 
Irving; Nanny, Elspeth Dudgeon. 

"STORM IN A TEACUP"— Korda-United 
Artists.— From the play by Bruno Frank. Anglo- 
Scotch version by James Bridie. Directed by 
Victor Saville and Ian Dalrymple. The Cast: 
Victoria, Vivien Leigh; Frank Burdon, Rex Harri- 
son; Provost, Cecil Parker; Mrs. Hegarty, Sara All- 
good; Lisbet Skirving, Ursula Jeans; Horace 
Skirving, Gus McNaughton; McKellar, Edgar 
Bruce; Lord Skerryvore, Robert Hale; Baillie Cal- 
lender, Quinton MacPherson; Fiscal, Arthur 
Wontner; Sheriff, Eliot Makeham; Menzies, George 
Pughe; Police Sergeant. Arthur Seaton; Police 
Constable, Cecil Mannering; Watkins, Ivor Bar- 
nard; Councillor, Cyril Smith; Cassidy, W. G. Fay; 
Palsy, Scruffy. 

"SUBMARINE D-l"— Warners.— Screenplay 
by Frank Wead, Warren Duff and' Lawrence 
Kimble. From a story by Frank Wead. Directed 
by Lloyd Bacon. The Cast: "Butch" Rogers, Pat 
O'Brien;/,/. Commander Matthews, George Brent; 
"Sock" McGillis, Wayne Morris; "Lucky," Frank 
McHugh; Ann Sawyer, Doris Weston; Paul, 
Ronald Reagan; Admiral Thomas, Henry O'Neill; 
Arabella, Dennie Moore; Dolly, Veda Ann Borg; 
Tom Callam, Regis Toomey; Mike, Broderick 
Crawford; Lt. Junior Grade, John Ridgely; Lt. 
Senior Grade, Owen King; Listener, Wally Maher; 
Lt. Mason, Jerry Fletcher. 

"THANK YOU, MR. MOTO"— 20th Century- 
Fox. — Screenplay by Willis Cooper and Norman 
Foster. Based on a story by John P. Marquand. 
Directed by Norman Foster. The Cast: Mr. 
Moto: Peter Lorre; Tom Nelson, Thomas Beck; 
Madame Chung, Pauline Frederick; Eleanor 
Joyce, Jayne Regan; Herr Koerger, Sidney Black- 
mer; Colonel Tchernov, Sig Rumann; Periera, 
John Carradine; Schneider, William Von Bricken; 
Madame Tchernov, Nedda Harrigan; Prince 
Chung, Philip Ann; Ivan, John Bleifer. 

M. — Screenplay by Lawrence Hazard. Original 
story by Eleanore Griffin, and J. Walter Ruben. 
Directed by Alfred E. Green. The Cast: Cricket 
West, Judy Garland; Timmie Donovan, Mickey 
Rooney; Mother Ralph, Sophie Tucker; Sir Peter 
Calverlon, C. Aubrey Smith; Roger Calver/on, 
Ronald Sinclair; Wilkins, Forrester Harvey; 
"Click" Donovan, Charles H. Brown; "Dink" Reid, 
Frankie Darro; "Doc." Godfrey, Henry Kolker. 

"TOVARICH" — Warners. — Screenplay by 
Casey Robinson. Adapted from the play by 
Jacques Deval. English version by Robert E. 
Sherwood. Directed by Anatole Litvak. The 
Cast: Taliana, Claudette Colbert; Mikail, Charles 
Boyer; Gorotchenko, Basil Rathbone; Charles Du- 
ponl, Melville Cooper; Helene Duponl, Anita 
Louise; Fernande Duponl, Isabel Jeans; Chauf- 
fourier-Dubieff, Morris Carnovsky; Count Breken- 
ski, Gregory Gaye; Mme. Courlois, Reine Riano; 
Lady Karlegann, Heather Thatcher; Louise, May 
Boley; Alfonso, Curt Bois; Grocer, Cliff Soubier; 
First Urchin, Tommy Bupp; Third Urchin, Jerry 
Tucker; Servant, Torben Meyer; Georges Duponl, 
Maurice Murphy; M. Courlois, Montagu Love; 
Martelleau, Fritz Feld; Gendarme, Victor Kilian; 
Mme. Chauffourier-Dubieff, Doris Lloyd; Mrs. Van 
Memert, Grace Hayle; Trombone Player, Christian 
Rub; Second Urchin, Delmar Watson; Hairdresser, 
Alphonse Martel; Mr. Van Hemert, Ferdinand 

"WELLS FARGO"— Paramount.— Screenplay 
by Paul Scliofield, Gerald Geraghty and Frederick 
Jackson. Based on a story by Stuart N. Lake. 
Directed by Frank Lloyd. The Cast: Ramsey 
MacKay, Joel McCrea;VHan£ York, Bob Burns; 
Justine, Frances Dee; Dal Slade, Lloyd Nolan; 
James Oliver, Porter Hall; Mr. Pryor, Ralph Mor- 
gan; Henry Wells, Henry O'Neill; Talbot Carter, 
John Mack Brown; Lucy Dorset! Trimhall, Jane 
Dewey; Mrs. Pryor, Mary Nash; Trimball, Robert 

— Screenplay by Kay Van Riper. Based upon the 
characters created by Aurania Rouverol. Directed 
by George B. Seitz. The Cast: Judge Hardy, 
Lewis Stone; Marian Hardy, Cecilia Parker; 
Andrew Hardy, Mickey Rooney; Mrs. Hardy, Fay 
Holden; Frank Redmond, Frank Craven; Polly 
Benedict, Ann Rutherford; "Jerry" Lane, Eleanor 
Lynn; Billy Rand, Ted Pearson; Aunt Milly, 
Sara Haden; Captain Swenson, Charles Judels; 
Hoyl Wells, Selmer Jackson. 



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Copyright, 1937, Standard Brands Incorporated 





PHOTOPLAY fashions on pages 62 and 63 of the Fashion 
Section in this issue are available to readers at these stores. 

Whenever you go shopping consult this list of reliable stores, offering faithful copies of PHOTOPLAY HOLLYWOOD 
FASHIONS and NATIONALLY KNOWN MERCHANDISE, such as advertised in this issue of PHOTOPLAY. If thh 
list does not include a store in your city, write MODERN MERCHANDISING BUREAU, 67 West 44th St., New York 
City. Send the name of your leading department store or dress shop. When you shop please mention PHOTOPLAY. 

Brinckerhoff, Inc Lou 


New Palais Royal Lake CI 

D. H. Holmes NewOl 

Abdaila's Opel 


B. Peck Co Lev 




Burger Phillips Co. Birmingham 

Reiss Bros Mobile 

A. Nachman Montgomery 


The Vogue Phoenix 

Gertrude Rubin Shop Tucson 


Boston Store Fort Smith 

Nossek's Little Rock 


Malcolm Brock Co Bakersfleld 

Rubaloff's Hollywood 

Morton's Denver 


Suzanne Keller Bristol 

Weil's Meriden 

Lynch Shop Norwalk 

M. Moltasch & Sons. Inc Stamford 

Freedman's, Inc Waterbury 

Woodward & Lothrop Washington 


Kitty Pope Daytona Beach 

Blocker's Ocala 

Bon Marche Pensacola 

The Vogue, Inc Tallahassee 

Kominer's West Palm Beach 


Goldberg's Augusta 

Kiralfy's Columbus 

Mayson's Macon 

The Marjen Shop Savannah 

E. C. Oliver Co Statesboro 


Davids Moscow 

Morrow Retail Store Wallace 


Lietz & Grometer Aurora 

A. Livingston &. Sons Bloomington 

Dresr Well Shops. Charleston 

Newman's Decatur 

Ducker's Joliet 

New York Store Moline 

Marcey's, Inc Oak Park 

Klein's Peoria 


Freund's (Morton Roth. Inc.) Anderson 

Schultz's Evansville 

Frank's Fort Wayne 

H ill man's Indianapolis 

Russell H. Kramer Michigan City 

Abrahams Davenport 

Newman's Des Moimis 

Newman's Pittsburgh 


1 he Parsons- Faulkner Co Ashland 

Stella Schneider Fort Thomas 

Boston Store Hazard 

Wolfson's . . Paducah 


New Palais Royal Lake Charles 

Bella Scherck Davidson Monroe 

Raye's Ready to Wear Shreveport 

Miriam Wardwell Shop Bangor 

The Hat &. Frock Shoppe. Lewiston 

R. E. Powell Co Salisbury 


Maurice Gordon Boston 

Touraine Glcve Corp Boston 

Sheehan Shoo t Holyoke 

Katherine C. Mack Lowell 

Imperial Shops North Adams 

Madame Fillion Pittsfleld 


The Style Shop Lansing 

Arthur's Pontlac 

Wlnkelman's Port Huron 


M. C. Albenberg Duluth 

Newman's St. Paul 


Marks-Rothenberg Meridian 

Adele's House of Fashion Vicksburg 

Suzanne's Columbia 


Braten's Bozeman 

Ed. Marans Butte 

The Paris Fligman Co Great Falls 

Haines Style Shop Missoula 

Magee's Lincoln 

Mellry. Inc Manchester 


'oseph Elfman Atlantic City 

Ada Shop East Orange 

Nathan's New Brunswick 

Mikola's Paterson 

Jenny Banta Ridgewood 


Kalet's Auburn 

Sisson Bros. Weldon Co Binghamton 

E. Hazel Murphy Elmira 

Merkel & Gelman Glens Fal s 

Mary B Cole Hudson 

H. Kaich Ithaca 

LaMode Jamestown 

Halls Fashion Shop Lockport 

Leon Friedman Ogdensburg 

lynch Robertson Penn Yan 

Mantell &. Martin Port Chester 

Boekel Shop Poughkeepsie 

Ki oil's Rochester 

Imperial Cloak Co Schenectady 

Doyle Knower Utica 

The Mabel Bentley Shoppe Watertown 

r.". i: liccnt Kalt Huntington 


B. Sellers & Sons Burlington 

Eflrd's Dept. Store Charlotte 

C. Heber Forbes Greenville 

Lizzie Gooch . . High Point 

C. J. Ellisberg Raleigh 

Rosenbloom- Levy Rocky Mount 

Dona-Ana Salisbury 

Mrs. Hayes Shop Southern Pines 

Rosenbaum's Tarboro 

Belk Williams Co Wilmington 

Arcade Fashion Shop Winston-Salem 


.jhaw Rogers Company Akron 

Spring Holzworth Alliance 

Davis & Co Cambridge 

Lillian's Cincinnati 

C. Zimmerman Cleveland 

Field's (Spaier's Inc.) Dayton 

Mayer's. Inc Hamilton 

Betty Lawlor Shop Lakewood 

The Leader Lima 

The Hud Steubenville 

House of Fashion Warren 

Abrahams Youngstown 


Eagle Merc. Co Chickasha 

The Vogue Lawton 


Dor u jhy Winter Bala-Cynwood 

Judy Miller Shop Danville 

Brien Smith & Royer. Inc Greensburg 

Molly Ann Dress Shop Indiana 

Martin's Johnstown 

Cox's McKeesport 

F. C. Menapace Mount Carmel 

Elizabeth Jones Olyphant 

Dorothy Shop Pottstown 

Scranton D. G. Co Scranton 

Polly Jane Shop Somerset 

Rosen bl urn's Sun bury 

Rosenbaum's Union town 

E. L. Stein Warren 

Brozman's Williamsport 

Paris Corset Shop Wilkes-Barro 


Lee's Dress Shop Providence 

The Misses Frank Providence 


Hat & Gown Shop Charleston 

May Bond Simpson Columbia 

Hendrickson's Darlington 

Rasor & Clardy Mullins 

Aug. W. Smith Spartanburg 

Baron Bros. Co Rapid City 

Miller's Knoxville 


Ernest Grissom's Abilene 

Monnig D. G. Co Fort Worth 

Marks Bros Sherman 

The Mayfaii Shop San Antonio 


The Nadine Ogden 

Collin's, Inc Salt Lake City 


W G. Reynolds Burlington 

Chas. Sterns Rutland 


L. Herman Danville 

Jos. Ney & Sons Co Harrisonburg 

Ames &. Brownley Norfolk 

The Smart Shop Norton 

Pocahontas Colliery Shop Pocahontas 

Natalie Shoppe Roanoke 

Helen's Dress Shop Wytheville 


Delman's Seattle 

A. M. Jensen Co Walla Walla 


Jollifte's Store of Shops . Grafton 

Yarid's Spec. Shop Lewisburg 

Nobby's Williamson 

Cinderella Frocks Madison 

Curtis Co Honolulu 


Reiss Brothers Mobile 


May Company Los Angeles 

Hale Bros .Sacramento 

O'Connor, Moffatt & Co San Francisco 

The Wilbur Suit Co Colorado Springs 


Fashion Millinery Bridgeport 

Stanley's Danbury 

Sage Allen & Co Hartford 

C. 0. Miller Co Stamford 

Woodward &. Lothrop Washington 

Nordell's Miami 

Bon Marche Pensacola 

Davison Paxon Atlanta 

Maysons Macon 

Leopold Adler Savannah 


Dress We.'l Shop Charleston 

Carson Pirie Scott & Co Chicago 

Block &. Kuhl Co Decatur 

Joseph Spiess Co Elgin 

Kellogg, Drake Co Galesburg 

Block &. Kuhl Co Moline 

Clarke & Co Peoria 

Halbach Schroeder Quincy 

The New Worthams Rockford 

Peoples Store Roseland 


The Fair Anderson 

Ziesel Bros. Co Elkhart 

Bon Marche Evansville 

Palais Royal Lafayette 

Geo. Wyman & Co South Bend 

Gimbel-Bond Co. Vincennes 


The Killian Co Cedar Rapids 

M. L. Parker Co Davenport 

Younker Bros Des Moines 

J. F. Stampfer's Dubuque 

Gates D. G. Co Fort Dodge 

Yetter's Iowa City 

Emporium Ottumwa 

T. S. Martin Co Sioux City 

Tne Vogue Ft. Scott 



M. E. Cain Hannigan Bro 

Cherry 4. Webb Co Law 

T. W. Rogers Co 

C. F. Wing Co New Be 

Grover Cronin. Inc Wal 

John C. Maclnnes Co Won 


Seaman's Battle 

J. L. Hudson D 

Paul Steketee & Sons Grand R 

Elaine Shop Ja> 

Gilmore Bros Kalan 

Style Shop La 

Chase's Po 

Heavenrich Bros Sa? 

A. Loeffler & Co Wyam 

Dayton Co Minneai 


The Famous . ...Hr.n 

Geo. B. Peck Co Kansas 

Townsend Wyatt & Wall Co St. J( 

Stix Baer &. Fuller Co St. I 

Hennessy Co .'I 

Thorn. K i : Patrick Co Or 

Gaby's Exclusive Shoppe Na 


Green Shops, Inc Atlantic I 

L. Bamberger &. Co Ne< 

Lillian Charm, Ire Trt 


Fowler, Dick & Walker Co Binghau 

Abraham & Straus, Inc Broci 

Flint & Kent Bu 

Lord &. Taylor New York 

Leon Friedman Ogde 

Boeckel Shop Poughkeij 

Hollywood Milliners ,. 

Irving H. Irion 1} 

Pierre Campbell Yor 


Glendale Shop Ashei 

Ellis Stone & Co Dur! 

Ellis Stone &. Co Greens! 

Rosenbaum's, Inc Tar 

Sher-Lynn Shoppe Wilmin 

Wm. Robin Co. Winston-Si 


The Bon Marche Ca 

The Fashion Co Colun 

Robinson-Schwenn Co Ham 

Feldman's. Inc 

The John Ross Co Middlel 

Edward Wren Co Springi 

The Hub Steubenj 

Lamson Brothers To 

Connewitz Co Van ) 

Litt Bros.. Inc.*. Wilmin 

Livingston's Youngsl 


Chas. F. Berg Co. 


The Adams Co Allent 

Leonardsons . . Du 

Pross Co Greensli 

Bowman &. Co Harrisl, 

Gimbel Brothers Philadelij 

Scranton D. G. Co Serai 

Leonard's Uniont 

Caldwell Store, Inc Washing 

Brozmans Williams 


Bon Ton Millinery New 

Glendale Shop Greenr 


Morgan- Verhine Union I 


Volk Bros Da 

The Smart Shop Horn 

Georgianna Shoppe Wichita F 


The Emporium 

Kieth-O'Brien, Inc. 


Salt Lake I 


Style Shop Charlottes 

Snyder & Berman, Inc Lyncht 

Capin Hats Nor 

Jonas Shoppe Richm 

S. H. Heironimus Co Roar 

Margaret L. Hodgson Winche 


Alexander's Spok 


Hollywood Shop Hunting 

The Floradora Shop Morganh 

L. S. Good & Co Wheel 


H. C. Prange Co Green I 

Gimbel Brothers Milwau 


Hudson Bay Co Calgary, Alb< 

Hudson Bay Co Winnipeg, Manit 


n a 




You want to be populai. You want to be liked 
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City State 


Even after "turning on a laugh" 100 times a day, 
Myrna Loy-MGM star— finds Luckies easy on her throat... 

A word about your throat — 

"Laughing before the sound camera 
is hard on the throat," says Myrna 
Loy. "After scenes of this sort, it's 
clear that Luckies are the cigarette 
for anyone who wants a light smoke 
that's easy on the throat!" Here's 
the reason in a nut-shell: the process 
"It's Toasted" takes out certain irri- 
tants that are found in all tobacco! 

A word about tobacco — Aren't 
men who spend their lives buying 
and selling tobacco the best judges 
of tobacco quality? Then remember 
. . . sworn records reveal that among 
independent tobacco experts Lucky 
Strike has twice as many exclusive 
smokers as all other brands com- 
bined. With men who know to- 
bacco best — it's Luckies — 2 to 1. 


Luckies -A Light Smoke 

Easy on your throat— "It's Toasted" 



Cwvnptit 1937, The American Tobacco J 

Wy HELLION -The Darina Life Storv of Don Ameche Bv HOWARD SHARPE 

Shoes featured — NANETTE {black gabardine) ARUNDEL {cubana tan calf) SUSETTE (marine blue calf) PHYLLIS (natural shantung with spice brown calf S 

Vitality shoes give color to the spring costume picture. Foretelling the trend toward moulded 
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colorful charm and imparting the grace of perfect posture. 

O — and /— 


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If there was hope for Harriet, there must he hope for you 


look into Harriet"; life a moment. She came 
citv and a fair position from a small up-state 
No beauty, she was nevertheless intelligent, 

>i vivacity, and above the run-of-the-mill in 

ti\ eness. \^ hat happened to her? 

■ 3 jrirls at the office were cordial enough at 

Later, their attitude changed. Thev seldom 

I her to lunch, so she usually lunched alone. 

Finally, it began to get her. She wanted friends . . . attention 
. . . later, a husband and children. Yet she was haunted by 
a vision of herself as an old maid, friendless and lonely. 

"Am I going to be one of these?' 

'Just a bunch of cats/' THOUGHT HARRIET 

:sually lound her interesting, yet seldom invited her 
I her evenings were spent at home by the radio 
he movies — alone. 

wish some man were • - t • 

here beside me," SHE SAID **p^)*"r~ 

other* of her own age enjoying themselves, she was 
s to understand why her own life was so empty, so flat. 

_1 ^ 

Then one day her bored eyes came 

across an advertisement dealing with halitosis (bad breath) 
and the success of Listerine in arresting it. She could not get 
the advertisement out of her mind; it haunted her. 

"Maybe that's my trouble," SHE SAID 

Fortunately, she had hit upon the exact truth — which no one 
else had dared to tell her. Now she sensed a reason for the 
coolness with which others treated her. She made up her mind 
to begin using Listerine Antiseptic. 

the world with new assurance . . . made new friends. And 
men looked at her with new interest and began to ask : 


In less than a year, the empty bttle engagement book her 
father had given her began to bulge with "dates. ' Life 
began to be the romantic, exciting thing she had hoped it 
would be. Each dav was a new adventure. 


"I'll see what happens," SHE MUSED %Z 

Well, things did happen. She began to go out more . 

. faced 


Don't assume that you never have halitosis 
(bad breath i. Everyone offends at some time 
or other. The delightful way to make the 
breath sweeter and purer is to rinse the mouth with 
Listerine Antiseptic especially before business and social 
engagements. Listerine quickly halts food fermentation, a 
major cause of odors, then overcomes the odors themselves. 
Nothing but Listerine can give your mouth that priceless feel- 
ing of freshness. Ask for Listerine and see that you get it 

Lambert Phakmacal Company. St. Louis. Mo. 

Two-fisted American 
college student goes 
to Oxford! Oh, boy, 
here's a drama that 
packs a wallop every 
minute of the way! 



Maureen O'Sullivan • Vivien Leigh 

Edmund Gwenn » Griffith Jones • From an Original Story by John Monk Saunders 
Directed by JACK CONWAY • Produced by MICHAEL BALCON 



°r MOTION ^ 












On the Cover— Son ja Henie, Natural Color Photograph by George Hurrell 

Happy Hellion Howard Sharpe 15 

The daring life story of Don Ameche 
Ginger's "Having Wonderful Time" Douglas Portmann 18 

That redheaded Rogers girl finds a new way to happiness 
Forbidden Great Loves of Hollywood .... Adela Rogers St. Johns 20 

Untold chapters in the lives of famous stars 
March Versus Stage Barbara Hayes 22 

Fredric March solves a dilemma familiar to Hollywood 
Their Hollywood Reputations Jeannette Meehan 24 

Here's how the Glamour Girls stack up as regular people 

The Miracle at the John Barrymores , Ida Zeitlin 26 

She Gets Away with Murder Janet Bentley 27 

That's what they say about Carole Lombard in Hollywood 
Listen, Hollywood ! Sherwood Anderson 28 

A strange and arresting story by a great novelist 

Spencer Tracy Faces Forty Gladys Hall 30 

In the Palm of Your Hand Matilda U. Trotter 68 

Second installment in an unusual series on'hand analysis 

The Camera Speaks: — 

Sure They Do The Big App'e in Hollywod 34 

Who Are They? . 36 

Photoplay tests your memory in a new fashion 
Following the Script of Robin Hood 39 

An inside glimpse at a movie in the making 

The Family Album of Eleanor Powell 44 

Bluebeard's Eighth Wife 46 

A Colbert-Cooper comedy preview 

Boos and Bouquets a 

Brief Reviews of Current Pictures 6 

PHOTOPLAY'S Own Beauty Shop Carolyn Van Wyck 8 

Choose the Best Picture of 1937 o 

Close Ups and Long Shots ,. 

She Walks in Beauty Mitli rjummings 32 

A few make-up tips from Dolores Del Rio 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 4 o 

The Shadow Stage g „ 

We Cover the Studios ........... James Reid 54 

Fashion Letter ■ Gwenn Wa „ ers 76 

Complete Casts of Pictures Reviewed in This Issue jrjO 

VOL LIL, No. 3, MARCH, 1938 

^l h r«^°wi bY F^^ * Bernarr Macfadden, President • Irene T. Kennedy, 

~^^^^^ uL. L ondon, , C. 4 • /early 

, and Central and South American countries excepting British Honduras, Bri 

>ns un k lwnrv n ou eS . $ Wh iie ^f"^ S \° Uld be ™ d ° h * check - » ?«»«-> or «*»« money order • CAUTION-Do no. subscribe through 
,za. on ,0 re,u3h° If rf TTT^' ph ° t0 ^ hs ' and drawin 9 s ale submi »^ a, the owners' risk, every effort will be made by this organ- of sue matter Tnt^r' d ! ^TT^ ^ ^If * *"" ^^ "* ^^ name a " d addre - But we w "> »°« be responsible 
19 8( by M c adde ^ Pulucations l nc ^^^ «"" ^ 24 < 1912 < a < *° P- **- « Chtcago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1.79. Copyright, 

and Central anr) So,,.;, &„,«, ■ """"" —. ™, a.;, u kum, mexico, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Spain and Pos- 

CTiSl£rS^i% A r^!!!^,rS^ Bnl,Sh H ° ndUraS ' B "* ish - Du,ch and F — h Gutana. $2.50 in Canada' and Newfound- 

"Tall, dark and handsome" — that's how Mae likes her men. But in "Every Day's a Holiday" La West herself goes brunette 



I AM a Wyoming cowpuncher who peruses 
every page of Photoplay each month with 
a palpitating pulse! 

When I seen the December number on a 
magazine rack in a drugstore I took one good 
look at the cover and would have let out a 
terrific whoop only I was afraid of frighten- 
ing a couple of shy looking women who were 
drinking chocolate ice cream sodas. I have 
done plenty of daydreaming while riding the 
range but none of my imagernary young 
ladies ever looked so gosh darn superflu- 
ously pretty as Loretta Young does look on 
that there December cover. 

When I got back to the ranch I had to tear 
the cover off to perfect Miss Loretta from 
the greasy fingers of my bunkhouse pals. 
Then I carved out a frame and salvaged 
enough glass from a broken window and 
then framed her. Now one wall of the bunk- 
house looks mighty pretty with Lovely Lor- 
etta a gracing its middle. I would bet a bot- 
tle of whiskey that if Miss Loretta's picture 
could just talk for a spell she would blush 
and say: 

"I wish you cowboys would not stare at 
me so much because it embarrasses me." 

I am much more than pleased on account 
of Photoplay's getting wider and longer be- 
cause now it will not take so long to paper 
the big bunkhouse with Photoplay's pretty 
picture covers. 

Yours truly, 

"Tex" Brunton, 
Casper, Wyoming. 



Through the medium of a tiny keyboard I 
have my fingers on the very pulse of the 
amusement world. I'm cashier in a movie 
theater, have been for six years, so I know 
the public's taste pretty well. I'm one of the 
persons they tell their likes and dislikes to; 
consequently, I'm one of the first to know 
just how well a picture is received, who the 
coming stars are, and, saddest of all, who the 
falling ones are. 

In the past month I've picked up a few in- 
teresting things. According to the movie 

George Murphy is practically as good as 
Fred Astaire. Judy Garland is as enticing 
as any Glamour Girl and twice as lovable. 
Her fan letter to Clark Gable in "Broadway 
Melody" really got the raves. 

Sonja Henie is better than ever in "Thin 

Paul Muni in "The Life of Emile Zola" is 
declared the finest actor on the screen; in- 
cidentally, in that picture I could really feel 
the audience liking it. That's the first time 
I ever actually felt the audience reaction. 

Ronald Colman is sincerely liked by 
everyone. "The Prisoner of Zenda" made 
a hit with men as well as women, which 
only goes to prove men are romantic crea- 
tures, too. Madeleine Carroll, so the men 
tell me, is a honey. 

George Raft is coming into his own at last 
for his splendid work in "Souls at Sea." 

Robert Taylor is liked, but people are tired 

of the Stanwyck-Taylor "just pals" attitude 
the press agents spread around. Give Tay 
lor a good picture and let him put his teeth 
in his part and he'll come along. 

Clark Gable can hold his own on our 
screen any time; he's the kind of a star that 
delights a cashier, one who really pulls in 
a crowd, and I mean every time. So I'll take 
Clark Gable. 

Miss Eleanor Ruble, 

Columbus, Ohio. 



An open letter to Asta! 

Asta, you are slipping. Not in your cute 
bright ways and not in the look in your ten- 
der wise eyes, but, Pooch, that figure! 

Your close-ups are still the tops but when 
in your last picture, "The Awful Truth," you 
hid your face in your paws the side view was 

You or your master had better send an 
SOS for Sylvia — or take this bit of free ad- 
vice. Not so many dog biscuits, and try roll- 
ing many times a day. That would be right 
up your alley. You can laugh, literally, 
when you do and think of how many female 
two-hundred pounders are doing this daily 
to get a Hollywood figure. 

You costarred with two of the finest come- 
dians on the screen and, in ending, may I 
add that never have I spent a more delight- 
ful evening as when I witnessed "The Awful 
Truth." For good clean laughs I recommend 
it to the Tired Old World. Where can one 
(Continued on page 84) 


is Dorothy Lamour's pet hobby— 
that's just one reason she likes LUX 

SAVING PENNIES has always been 
one of this young star's pet hobbies 
— and she still thinks it's fun. But once 
saving pennies was a grim necessity. 

"I couldn't always afford lots of 
stockings and undies," she says, "so I 
took the best possible care of them. I 
washed them in Lux every night so they 
would last longer. It saved me a lot!" 

Of course, pennies don't worry her 
now, but she still insists on having her 
washables cared for the same way — 
with Lux. "I get so fond of my things, 

Off the set, Dorothy Lamour 
adores soft sweaters, freshly Luxed. 
You'll be seeing her in important 
Paramount pictures — don't mils 
"Her Jungle Love." 

I can't bear to see them wear out," 
she explains. 

Every girl can share Miss Lamour's 
simple secret. Smart washables will 
wear longer with Lux care. Lux has no 
harmful alkali to fade colors. And with 
Lux there's no cake-soap rubbing to 
injure fibers. Anything safe in water is 
safe in Lux. 

ified for washing everything safe in water 
alone. "It not only saves on cleaning, but 
cuts down our replacement costs," says 
Frank Richardson, wardrobe director. 

"Dottie" is also heard on a na- 
tionwide radio program each 
week. In her leisure (?) time this 
Paramount star likes to relax — in 
attractive Luxables. 

"Lux has always saved me a lot on 
stockings," says Miss Lamour. "I hard- 
ly ever get runs!" Lux saves the elastic- 
ity of silk. Then it can stand sudden 
strains better — isn't so apt to run. 

Specified in leading Hollywood Studios 


BUCCANEER, THE-Paramount . . . 
CHECKERS-20th Century-Fox . . . 
HOLLYWOOD HOTEL-Warners . . . 
I'LL TAKE ROMANCE-Columbia . . 
IN OLD CHICAGO-20th Century-Fox . 

LAOY BEHAVE— Republic 

OVE AND HISSES— 20th Century-Fox . 





WISE GIRL-RKO-Radio ..... 






•k ALI BABA GOES TO TOWN-20th Century-Fox 

A pointed satire on the present administration, this is a rollick- 
ing well-staged, and very funny piece if you have a sense of humor. 
Failing asleep, Eddie Cantor dreams of ancient Bagdad, which is in 
dreadful shape. He suggests to Sultan Roland Young a few New 
Dealish measures which might be taken. Thereupon the film be- 
comes a frantic and magnificently impossible hash. You'll like 
Tony Martin, Raymond Scott's band, June Lang and all the songs. 


Outside of the fact that this allows Young America a good look at 
Captain Dick Merrill, famed crack pilot, this dull story has little to 
offer. Paula Stone is giddily inept as the heiress-aviatrix who uses 
Dick's ability to save the life of Weldon Heyburn. Captain Merrill 
himself does a swell job. (Dec.) 

* AWFUL TRUTH, THE— Columbia 

The happy combination of Irene Dunne and Cary Grant, plus a 
delightfully gay and romantic story, make this one of the best 
pictures this year. Married, very much in love, but stubborn, they 
find divorce rearing its ugly head, but finally solve their domestic 
relations in a merry, mad and very modern way. Irene and Grant 
are delicious, Ralph Bellamy and the supporting cast equally 
splendid. A command performance. (Dec.) 

+ BARRIER, THE— Paramount 

Rex Beach's story of men who went to Alaska during the gold 
rush to escape sins committed in the States, and of the romances 
which flourished in the wilderness, retains considerable interest in 
this latest screening. Jean Parker is the supposed half-breed who 
marries army lieutenant James Ellison. Leo Carrillo steals the show 
as Polleon, the trapper. (Jan.) 


A merry mix-up with Frank Morgan as the lovable scamp who 
lives by his wits. He invites daughter Florence Rice to be married 
in liN French chateau, then discovers that he can't use buttons for 
money to pay the rent. John Beal steps in to take charge of both 
daughter and papa. George Givot, Herman Bing and Erik Rhodes 
aid in the hilarity. (Feb.) 

BIG TOWN GIRL— 20th Century-Fox 

A happy tale of an overzealous press agent, Alan Dinehart, who 
makes a great radio star out of Claire Trevor, a small-town plugger. 
Donald Woods, as Claire's beau, turns in a gratifying performance, 
as do Miss Trevor and Dinehart. A cosy little picture you'll like. 


There will be no bouquets for " Blossoms." The plot was nipped 
in the bud. Edward Arnold is a likeable rogue who keeps within 
the law only to find the heiress he was promoting is a phony, too. 
Weber and Fields are well presented; Shirley Ross sings well; Bill 
Frawley gets all the laughs. (Feb.) 

BORROWING TROUBLE— 20th Century-Fox 

The familiar Jones family's homely tribulations this time involve 
the adoption of a wayward boy who is promptly suspected of rob 
bing the Jones drugstore. This is like sugar-candv hearts with 
mottoes on them. (Jan.) 


Parents will approve the moral lesson in this little tidbit, and 
children will love the exciting action provided entirely by young- 
sters. Maureen O'Connor (a newcomer) sings nicely; Jackie 
Cooper is splendid; and Guy Usher and Marjorie Main turn in fine 
performances as the parents. (Feb.) 


Barbara Stanwyck, leaving her tears behind her, emerges as a 
smartly dressed, gay and dominant Texan who works wonders with 
playboy Herbert Marshall's life, home and Wall Street business. 
Eric Blore plays assistant to Cupid, Donald Meek is a justice of the 
peace, and Glenda Farrell is a gold-digging show girl. You'll like 
it. (Dec.) 


A lively comedy with a novel triangle idea, this has Anne Nagel 
marrying Warren Hull to spite Henry Mollison who forgot to show 
up at the altar. Then Mollison joins Anne and Warren on their 
honeymoon. It's light and frothy. (Dec.) 


In a Viennese version of the Cinderella tale, Joan Crawford im- 
p rsonates a cabaret girl chosen by an impish count to pose as a 
lady at a fashionable hotel. Here she comes upon a passionate 
post man, Franchot Tone, and a dizzy playboy, Robert Young. Miss 
Crawford is both gracious and compelling, but the weary plot 
defeats all. (Dec.) 


John Howard, Scotland Yard detective who always gets his man, 
here finds himself tangled with international crooks who steal a box 
of high explosives — of all things. John Barrymore's banter lifts the 
gloom. Louise Campbell is again Howard's sweetheart. (Jan.) 


The smoothness of Warner Oland as Charlie, the laughable 
blunders of son Keye Luke, and the tip-top comedy of Harold 
Huber contribute to make this tale of high finance and murder a 
"best" Chan story. Virginia Field and Kay Linaker are the maids 
of mystery. (Jan.) 


History, pageantry and romance brought to unparalleled heights 
of beauty by the peerless acting of Greta Garbo and Charles Boyer 
in one of the loveliest of love stories — that of Napoleon and Marie 
Walewska, the patriotic Polish countess who bore him a son. The 
production, photography and direction are of the finest, the huge 
cast including Dame May Whitty, Henry Stephenson, Reginald 
Owen and Maria Ouspenskaya is exceptionally brilliant. It cost 
$3,000,000 and it's worth it. (Jan.) 


Aided by those zanies, George Burns and Gracie Allen, Fred 
Astaire overcomes a top-heavy plot about a titled heiress (Joan 
Fontaine) who falls for a London dancer, and turns on his finest 
rhythmic gymnastics to enchant you. George Gershwin's last score 
enlivens the entire piece. (Feb.) 

DANGER-LOVE AT WCRK-20th Century-Fox 

In this outlandish story, the mad, modern type of comedy so 
popular at the moment comes a cropper. Jack Haley is a lawyer 
who tries to get a deed signed by a screwball family. Mary Boland 
is good, Edward Everett Horton and Ann Sothern worthy of men- 
tion. There is little excuse for the action. (Jan.) 


Among the current rash of jewel-thief pix this had better be 
ignored. A huge diamond is stolen, and Cesar Romero, the most 
obvious suspect, finds romance with Phyllis Brooks. Jane Darwell 
moves ponderously throughout, and Alan Dinehart is a heavy 
heavy. (Dec.) 


The famous Myrna Loy-Bill Powell combination in a stew of 
romance and boisterous comedy. Bill plays a roustabout adven- 
turer living in a trailer. When he lights out for Hollywood with 
Florence Rice and John Beal in tow, the staid Miss Loy upsets the 
applecart. Better go, but don't expect perfection. (Dec.) 


George Arliss here plays the role of a parson by day, a pirate by 
night. When the revenue officers interrupt his peaceful smuggling, 
murder enlivens the proceedings. Margaret Lockwood and John 
Loder bill and coo. The supporting cast is splendid. (Jan.) 

if EBB TIDE— Paramount 

Robert Louis Stevenson's powerful adventure story of human 
derelicts in the South Seas is filmed in Technicolor with masterly 
direction and a notably fine cast including Britain's Oscar Homolka 
(he played Paul Kruger in "Rhodes, The Diamond Master"). Ray 
Milland, Frances Farmer, Barry Fitzgerald and Lloyd Nolan- 
Story, production and acting are outstanding. You can't afford 
to miss this. (Dec.) 

(Continued on page 98) 


The laughing, 
larruping hero of 

"Kid Galahad"! 

Speeding to stardom faster than any other screen 
hero in years! Here's the daring, dashing new 
thrill in boy friends, with the devil in his eyes, a 
wallop in his mitt and heaven in his arms! Winning 
millions of hearts in every role he plays! See him 
now— more exciting than ever— in the tingling 
romance of a fightin' fool who knew how to love! 

Shooting another love punch straight 
to your heart in "The Kid Comes Back"! 

S 3 

PM ST® I? [LAY 8 


CARoiyrf ^Aa/ wyck 


As simple as ABC is that vague and 

mysterious art of corrective make-up 
when explained by movie experts 

you've been looking at yourself 
mournfully in the mirror and wishing 
to heaven there were something you could 
do to disguise the fact that your nose is too 
long, or your cheekbones too low, you can 
perk up and take heart because there is 
something you can do about it. Of course, 
it isn't any too easy, and it takes a lot of time, 
but it's worth all the trouble if you really 
want to look alluring. 

You've undoubtedly been hearing a lot 
about "corrective" make-up and about the 
vague and mysterious art of "shading" to 
minimize your defects and emphasize your 
good points. Robert Stephanoff is the make- 
up expert at Samuel Goldwyn Studios — he's 
the man who makes Sigrid Gurie so com- 
pletely lovely in "The Adventures of Marco 
Polo." He says any woman can look attrac- 
tive if she blends carefully dark and light 
make-up to highlight her good points and 
cover up the bad ones. 

You see, the whole idea is that the eye is 
caught by light and skips over darkness. The 
whole process is based on an optical illusion. 
It works on the same theory that a woman 
dressed in black will look thinner than one 
dressed in white. 

So, you start with a good oily or cream 
foundation, because it's easier to blend for 
a shaded effect than a liquid or a powder 
foundation. This foundation must be the 
usual color you use (the same shade as your 
skin) and your powder must be the same 
color as the foundation. 

First, you apply the foundation evenly all 
over your face. Then, if your nose is too 
prominent, you take a foundation cream that 
is four shades darker than the one you have 

Would you like exotic 
high cheekbones? A 
narrow jaw? A smaller 
nose? Or perhaps larger 
eyes? The text and these 
diagrams will aid you 

"Shading" gave Sigrid Gurie 
this intriguing long-eyed effect 

on your face — made by the same manufac- 
turer, of course, so it will be of equal con- 
sistency — and blend it down the top of your 
nose, leaving the sides of your nose and the 
rest of your face covered with your usual 
shade of foundation. This will make your 
nose seem less large, because the darker 
make-up makes it sink back. If there is no 
sharp line of separation between the dark 
and light foundation the effect won't be 

That's where the trick lies and why it re- 
quires so much care — the cream must be so 
carefully blended that you don't see a dark 
streak — you don't see anything at all, as a 
matter of fact, except a very much more 
attractive person. 

/\FTER you've blended the foundations so 
the edges melt into each other, you pat your 
usual shade of powder on very carefully, so 
that you don't streak the foundation, and 
then go over it lightly with a powder brush. 
If your nose is flat and too broad, you do 
just exactly the opposite from what you do 
when it's too prominent. You darken along 
the sides of your nose, and on the top you 
apply a streak of the foundation that is four 
shades lighter than the foundation that's on 
the rest of your face. This brings out the 
top of your nose and makes the sides sink 

back, so your nose looks much narrowe 
You're working with three shades of found; 
tion now: the color that matches your skii 
a shade four shades darker than that, an 
one that's four shades lighter — so you ca 
see what extreme care you have to take nc 
to look like a striped Indian. It's a lot c 
fun, though, practicing until you get it jus 

If you'd like to shorten your nose, Mi 
Stephanoff tells you to put the darker foun 
dation on the tip and just under it, and the: 
blend it out carefully. 

If you get to be very expert at this sort c 
make-up, you can even straighten a crook& 
nose. Put the darker foundation on the out 
side of the crook, and if you highlight th 
inside of the crook with the lighter founda 
tion, your nose will look practically straight 

If you've been wondering how Dietricl 
gets that lovely exotic high-cheekbonei 
look, here's how it's done. You highligh 
your cheekbones with the lighter founda 
tion and then shadow underneath them witl 
the darker foundation. Put the dark founda 
tion on in a triangle and your cheekbone: 
will look positively Oriental. The diagram: 
on this page show you just exactly how it': 
done. Study them carefully. 

If you're using rouge and you want to ge 
the same high-cheekboned effect, use ; 
lighter rouge across the top of your cheek, 
and a darker rouge underneath. But be sun 
they're both blended together and seem t( 
darken gradually underneath. 

If you have hollow cheeks that you wan' 
to fill out, you bring out the hollows bj 
using the lighter foundation on them. 

W HEN Mr. Stephanoff is making up '< 
girl with a narrow jaw, he simply puts the 
lighter foundation on the sides of her jaw 
and uses a darker make-up on her chin, tc 
make her jaw look fuller and more curved 
If you have a square jaw and want to make 
it look narrower, you do just the opposite 
(Continued on page 92) 


ailing all voles! Calling all votes! Here is your last chance 
select the winner ot PHOTOPLAY'S Gold Medal! 

HAVE you cast your vote yet for the 
Best Picture of 1937? If your ballot 
isn't in, send it at once, or you're go- 
lg to miss the band wagon! The votes are 
ouring in like an avalanche. • There are sev- 
ral films running neck and neck in the race 
b win Photoplay's Gold Medal. Your vote 
|iay swing the balance in favor of your pet 
icture! Mail it today. The polls close posi- 
Lvely on March first. 

Moving pictures are admittedly this gener- 
ation's most popular hobby. They are some- 
ling within the reach of almost every pock- 
Itbook. Each year pictures grow bigger and 
letter. Those overworked words "colossal" 
bd "stupendous" really do apply honestly 
p many of the year 1937 's pictures. It is fif- 
ing that some honor should go to the picture 
I'hich, in the minds of our hundreds of thou- 
ands of readers, has given them the most 
:leasure during the past year. 
! If you will glance at the list of previous 
dinners of this award, you will see why we 
ire so enthusiastically willing to allow you to 
>e the judge in this momentous decision. We 
(now you will choose a picture worthy to be 
(dded to Photoplay's Honor Roll of Gold 
dedalists of which we are so proud. 

A year is a long time — you perhaps cannot 
emember each and every picture you went 
p see. To jog your memory, we list here out- 
tanding pictures of 1937. Space does not 
ermit us to list every fine picture, and we 
;/ish to repeat what we said last month — any 
ricture produced during 1937 may be voted 
pon. Vote for your favorite! (Note: Due 
b the fact that "The Adventures of Marco 
i'olo" was not generally released during 1937 
s planned, we herewith disqualify this pic- 
are from the voting. We ask anyone who 
oted for this picture to send in another vote 
or a different picture.) 

Fill out the ballot at the right, or just write 
our choice for the Best Picture of 1937 on a 
iece of paper and send it to the Gold Medal 
ditor, Photoplay, 122 East 42nd Street, New 
fork, N. Y. ' It is as simple as that! No rules 
|r regulations. Just vote. Remember, after 
larch first it will be too late. 











































AH Baba Goes to 


Awful Truth, The 

Barrier, The 

Black Legion 

Blossoms on Broad- 

Call It a Day 


Captains Coura- 


Damsel in Distress 

Day at the Races, A 

Dead End 

Easy Living 

Ebb Tide 

Firefly, The 

Fire Over England 

Good Earth, The 

Head Over Heels in 


High, Wide and 

History Is Made at 

Hurricane, The 

I Met Him in Paris 

I'll Take Romance 

It's Love I'm After 

Kid Galahad 

King and the Chorus 
Girl, The 

Knight Without Ar 

Last Gangster, The 

Last of Mrs. Chey 
ney, The 

Life of Emile Zola 

Lost Horizon 

Love Is News 
Make Way for To 

Marked Woman 
Merry - Go - Round of 

Night Must Fall 
Nothing Sacred 
One In A Million 
100 Men and a Girl 

Perfect Specimen 
Plough and the 

Stars, The 
Prince and the Pau- 

per r The 
Prisoner of Zenda 
Quality Street 
Road Back, The 

Second Honeymoon 
Stella Dallas 
Stage Door 
Star is Born, A 
Souls at Sea 
Shall We Dance 
Swing High, Swing 

They Won't Forget 

Three Smart Girls 
Victoria the Great 
Vogues of 1938 
Wake Up And Live 
Wee Willie Winkie 
Wife, Doctor And 

Woman Chases 





In my opinion the picture named below is the 
best motion picture production released in 1937 










>&■■■ .; 



Directed by Roy Del Ruth 

Associate Producer David Hempstead 

Original Screen Play by Milton Sperling 

and Boris Ingster 


"Hot and Happy","A Gypsy Told Me" 

"You Are The Music To The Words In 

My Heart", "Yonny And His Oompah" 

by Sam Pokrass and Jack Yellen 

It comes to you, of course, from DARRYL F. ZANUCK and his 20th Century-Fox hit creators! 





SPENCER TRACY took an editorial idea 
right smack away from me . . . though 
he didn't know it . . . for I had in- 
tended to write about the need for Holly- 
wood stars to look outside themselves ... to 
itry to better the world through some other 
-medium in addition to their gift of amuse- 
ment . . . and then as you can see if you will 
■turn to page 30 this issue . . . Spence came 
jalong and expressed exactly the same idea 
!in much more dramatic form than I can. . . . 

The thought hit me recently one evening 
jwhen I sat talking with one of the world's 
imost famous stars ... a charming person 
of great talent ... he was going through 
heartbreak . . . death had touched him re- 
cently and also the threat of ill health . . . 
he felt completely hopeless that evening 
. beyond help . . . his work meant some- 
thing to him . . . his fame pleased him . . . 
yet his life in the future seemed valueless, 
of no account. . . . 

I left the star feeling very sad for him . . . 
for his grief was sincere . . . and all night 

long, because he is my friend. I kept puzzling 
as to the cure for his melancholia ... by 
morning I recalled the oldest rule in the 
world . . . help others. . . . 

It seemed too routine to say that . . . but 
it started me thinking about what Hollywood 
and its famous people could do if they lent 
the glamour of their names to the important 
causes being fought for in this troubled world 
of today . . . think what it would mean if 
Hollywood male stars would back the Big 
Brother movement . . . that drive to help 
underprivileged boys to become good citi- 
zens . . . conceive what it could mean if the 
girl stars would back the drives against child 
labor ... or men and women unite behind 
a man like J. Edgar Hoover in his noble 
campaign for crime prevention. . . . 

I do not mean writing checks . . . after a 
point, when you are in the thousands-a-week 
class, earning money and spending it mean 
little . . . but to lend their moral support 
... to speak occasionally on these subjects 
... to really enter into them. . . . 

Hollywood stars could be the greatest 
moral force in the world . . . the average 
person is so lonely and so brave ... by the 
very color of their personalities the stars, 
plus their good works, could change society 
. . . for they have the gift of persuasion and 
the lure of charm . . . they could be the 
greatest preachers for good the world has 
ever known . . . and they could save their 
own souls ... or if they are afraid of that 
word ... at least their own happiness . . . 
in the process. . . . 

i TJRELY Personal Reactions . . . with 
everybody picking lists of things right and 
wrong with the cinema I might as well stick 
my neck out ... I nominate for the Acad- 
emy awards of 1938 Garbo for her perform- 
ance in "Camille'' and Boyer for his Na- 
poleon in "Conquest" ... I expect a howl 
from the Muni fans who will point out to me 
the greatness of his performance in "Emile 
Zola" . . . but I'll beat them to that ... I 
concede the Muni greatness in "Zola" ... I 

She has changed so little — the Garbo 
(left) of Dumas' famous "Camille" and 
the Garbo above. Yet ten long years 
have elapsed between the taking of these 
two pictures; and Hollywood still neg- 
lects its duty to the great Greta 


think it is the second finest male performance 
of 1937 but never, to my mind, in the class 
with Boyer's "Napoleon" ... it just so hap- 
pens that for several months I lived next 
door to Boyer though I never got to know 
him . . . but my garden overlooked his and 
I could see him prowling about or driving 
off to the studio daily ... so that after a 
bit I got to know his gestures and the tones 
of his voice as well as you know those of an 
old friend ... but that man in "Conquest" 
I had never seen before . . . that man was 
one of the Titans of the world ... so deeply 
did Boyer identify himself with the character 
of one of life's dictators that you understood 
his every mood and thought ... to me that 
is the test of great acting . . . that ability 
to make you forget the personality of the 
actor and realize only the soul of the char- 
acter portrayed. . . . 

With a bow to his magnificent technique I 
never have felt that with Muni ... to me he 
is always Muni first ... the thoughtful . . . 
the conscientious ... the artistic . . . but 
still Muni as Pasteur . . . Muni as Wang 
. . . Muni as Zola . . . for my money Boyer 
was Napoleon. . . . 

Now Garbo like Muni is always Garbo 
as some one . . . Garbo as Mata Hari . . . 
Garbo as Anna Christie . . . Garbo as Ca- 
mille . . . yet she brings one gift unique to 
her to every characterization . . . that is a 
spiritual essence ... no other actress can 
project into love as she does ... all her 
greatest roles have been portraits of women 
in love and . . . while in every one of them 
she has been the great Garbo . . . each of 
those portraits of a woman's reaction to love 
has been different. . . . 

On the preceding page you will see her as 
she was ten years ago and as she was at the 
beginning of last year as "Camille" and you 
will note how remarkably little she changed 
... yet at the time of the first portrait she 
was playing her passionate love drama both 
on and off screen with John Gilbert ... as 
different a characterization as can be con- 
ceived from the silly little Camille who lived 
like a fool until a love so great came to her 
that she was glad to die of it. . . . 

I am aware that today in the purely com- 
mercial sense Garbo is no longer "big box- 
office" at least in America ... yet I do feel 
that the Academy owes not only her but the 
profession of screen acting the highest honor 
it can bestow to her whom for some 
strange reason it has so long neglected 
. . . fine as they are there surely is no com- 
parison between the work of Bette Davis and 
Luise Rainer, to name the two most recent 
recipients of the Academy honor, and the 
work that Garbo has contributed to this in- 
dustry . . . long before movie acting gener- 
ally was regarded as anything save good 
craftsmanship she entered and raised it to 
the plane of art . . . the Academy has a 
duty to her to reward her before possibly it 
is too late. . . . 

VERY highbrow note: I cannot understand 
why the important music critics of this coun- 
try do not review pictures to comment upon 
their important creation of modern music 
. . . witnessing C. B. DeMille's stirring ad- 
venture film of "The Buccaneer" I was very 
aware of how subtly the score of that pro- 
duction was contributing to the desired 


moods of the scenes . . . later, I learned it 
has been composed by George Antheil, one 
of the most provocative of living composers 
. . . in my own simple way I figure the music 
critics would give more to their public if 
they at least occasionally wrote about vital 
music like this rather than plugging along 
in the conventional path wearily comment- 
ing for the thousandth time on somebody's 
performance of "Aida". . 

GRADUALLY, peace is settling over Holly- 
wood ... of the important* stand-outs 
Jimmy Cagney is going back to Warners' 
after nearly two and a half years' absence 
and Frank Capra has already returned to 
Columbia . . . only Jean Arthur remains on 
strike ... or had you forgotten her? 
it wouldn't be surprising if you had 
since despite her gay performances not a 
word about Jean has appeared in print since 
she walked out on Columbia ... I don't 
know who is right or who is wrong in that 
contract quarrel ... but I miss Jean ... I 
feel it is too bad that she refuses to see the 
press and explain her actions ... I have 
never yet seen a star defy the press and re- 
main supreme . . . Garbo, of course, is the 
conspicuous example of the star who grants 
only the scantest interviews ... yet she 
actually co-operates with the press by letting 
sufficient information about herself get out 
... by always posing formally for sufficient 
photographs . . . also she has the virtue of 
having originated the "no interview" atti- 
tude ... the girls who have copied her in 
this have flopped at it . . . Dietrich tried it 
. . . and she's no longer under contract 
Ann Harding tried it . . . and she's not 
being cast in pictures any more Jean 

Arthur is trying it now . . . and look where 
she is ... we hope this is how the story 



ends . . . she'll come back and let us \l \ 
friends. . . . 

riAVE you heard the good news 
Tyrone Power's being cast as "Ferson , 
young lover, to Shearer's Marie Anto»ett 
... it seems perfect casting to me -. . f 
, the actor in that role has to be very 4un 
yet utterly persuasive . . . enough jr 
woman to lose her head and her crowrpve 
... I'm always baffled as to why Ty Jem 
such a baby on the screen ... in re; lif 
he is an extremely mature young man tljugl 
his years are only twenty-five . . . stragel 
the opposite is true of Robert Taylo; . 
actually he seems very young yet o 
screen most secure and worldly . 
"Ferson" however it will be utterly rij t i 
have Ty seem at once so young and so clrm 
ing. . . . 

If it ever gets set that Gable will, i felly 
play Rhett Butler he says that he will fake 
himself up just like the drawing of hi], 
that was run in the October Photolav 
• ■ • nice compliment that . . . Scileti 
O'Hara is still nowhere to be found dw- 
ever . . . when I read that story that L 
might sign up one of the White House rid 
as "Mammy" I realized there was still ope 
. . . with that magnificent publicity :nv 
they've got at Selznick's they'll prolbt 
settle on the Duchess of Windsor . . th's 
finished version might not be exactly ha* 
we'd like to expect of "Gone With the Wid 
but think what a box-office setup that culd 
make . . . "Clark Gable Loves the Due ess 
of Windsor" . . . man alive would thclibe 
something . . . I hereby off er this great La 
absolutely free to David Selznick . I 
mean I will if he guarantees me the first- 
terview with Clark after his first day's \fc 
with the Duchess. . . . 

gallant with the ladies . . . beloved by 
ry belle in all of New Orleans . . . feared 
hose rats of the Seven Seas ... his bold, 
buccaneers . . .Jean Lafitte . . . the gayest 
who ever sailed beneath the Skull and 
kss-bones lives again in the grandest 
torical romance ever to swing across 
screen . . . Cecil B. DeMille's 
] ning adventure-epic... 

thrilling role of 
dashing gentleman j 

pirate, who took time out from his pirateering 
and his romancing to help Andrew Jackson win 
the Battle of New Orleans and save America 
from the British . . . Fredric March reaches new 
heights of screen adventure. As the little Dutch 
girl whose love forced the dashing pirate 
to strike his flag . . . Franciska Gaal, 
beautiful new Paramount star dis- 
covery, makes a fitting team- 
mate for that gentleman 
pirate Capt. Jean Lafitte. 



Adolph Zukor presents 

a Cecil B. DeMille 




with Franciska Gaal 

Akim Tamiroff • Margot Grahame 

Walter Brennan 

Ian Keith • Anthony Quinn 

Douglass Dumbrille • Beulah Bondi 

Robert Barrat • Hugh Sothern 

Louise Campbell • Evelyn Keyes 

Directed by Cecil B. DeMille 

Screen Play byEdwin JustusMayer.HaroId Lamb 
and C. Gardner Sullivan • Based on an Adap- 
tation by Jeanie Macpherson of "Lafitte the 
Pirate" by Lyle Saxon • A Paramount Picture 



Prophecy ©f Spring, 1938 — the suit with revers of soft, silky FEDE 
Silver Fox. Designers love this fur for its immense chic; you'll adore it for its 
flattery and youthful loveliness. All FEDERAL Foxes are abundantly silvered 
pure black background . . . the skins are large, light and supple . . 

theirs is a more lasting beauty. Look for the FEDERAL name, seal 

an ear and stamped on the leather side. FEDERAL Silver Foxes are sold by 

stores from coast to coast. 






Don, whose antics— plus his acting- 

have established a home-town legend 


IF you are in your late twenties and spent 
any part of your childhood in Kenosha, 
Wisconsin, you can say, "I knew him 
when." For of course you knew Dominic 
Felix Ameche. Everybody did. 

He was, and is, a legend in that town. 

If your father's store window was ever 
broken, and you got punished for the crime, 
it was little heller Dominic whose licking 
you took. He was the sturdy, grinning 
urchin with the shock of black hair and the 
lustrous, innocent brown eyes who came over 
to play and made a cave out of the autumn 
leaves in your back yard and ran when his 
corn-silk cigarette set them on fire, endan- 
gering the community. 

And if you ever tried to get even with him 
you remember that, too. You'll carry the 
marks of his vengeance to your dying day. 

Dominic Felix Ameche was born at the 
very beginning of 1908's summer, to the 
sound of rejoicing; for the Ameches were 
Italian and he was the first son. Blissful in 
the ignorance of what was to come, the 
family gave thanks to God that afternoon 
and spaghetti to the neighbors as soon as 
Barbara Hertel Ameche was well enough to 
go into the kitchen. Poppa Felix closed the 

>rdinarily, a me a< 

of one, but ingen ways 

and means, even then, o 

saloon early and got there in time for the 

Young Dom walked at seven and a half 
months. He would: of all the eight Ameche 
children — four boys and four girls — he was 
the chosen one, the one with the most vitality 
and the most agile mind and the most inven- 
tive ability. He was the only one who ever 
kicked Poppa in the seat of the pants. 

Thereafter, Dom respected his father. The 
others he could handle, even when he was 
too young to reason; there was an intuitive 
thing in the way he smiled and pointed at 
the new puppy when his mother ran in to 
investigate crashing noises, in the way he 
feigned being asleep in a chair far removed 
from the wreckage of a once-proud lamp. 
Momma, increasingly appalled at this young 
devil she had brought into the world, was 
wont usually to believe, to cuff the puppy. 
It was easier than punishing the kid, who had 
pugnacious views on discipline and strength 
to justify them. 

As the early years went by, and more 
spaghetti was served to congratulating neigh- 
bors, the puppy (now grown too old for be- 
lievable prankishness) relinquished his mar- 
tyrdom to Dom's new brothers and sisters. 
One, Louie, a passive and often miserable 
child, accepted the brunt of it. 

"Louie did it," was the simple phrase, the 
standard acquittal formula, for large or small 
offense. It never occurred to Louie to pro- 
test, and, if it did, he put the thought away 

/\T public grade school — the dullest period 
in any man's life— one incident is representa- 
tive. It happened when the district nurse 
visited Dom's classroom to inspect the chil- 
dren's heads, a sanitary measure. Toward 
the noon hour the plump, white-starched 
woman grew tired, desired her lunch; and 
shifted to the easier method of asking the 
pupils point-blank if anything had been in 
their hair. Those who admitted to posses- 
sion of guests were sent to the cloakroom. 

At the question, Don (for the benefit of 
records and the convenience of Yankee class- 
mates his diminutive was now spelled with 
an "n") held up his hand — he thought they 
were giving oranges away in the cloakroom 
as consolation. 

If he did things of this sort it was because 
of a healthy lust to have his share of things, 

For twenty years Don called this house 
in Kenosha, Wisconsin, "home." Since 
his debut on the screen he has bought 
a home for his parents in California 

no matter how he got them. If he pretended 
to be deaf for three whole weeks during his 
third-grade year in order to get into the de- 
fective-children class it was because of an 
abounding curiosity — an impatience with all 
that was regular and ordained and approved 
by smug teachers and unimaginative parents. 
And if he brought home report cards on 
which was written the urgent message: 
"Work: Excellent. Attention: Lax. Deport- 
ment: Dreadful!" It was because he had an 
eager intelligence that made short work of 
study and then, restless, found other means 
of occupation. 

If he was a problem of the first order, the 
recurring horned vision in the dreams of his 
teachers and the sole origin of Momma's 
nervous headaches, it was because he had 
more zest for life than other children, more 
impulsive fearlessness, more inherent taste 
for all and everything that was the corollary 
of excitement. 

I HIS was well, but, after all, his parents 
were only of flesh and blood. Exhausted, 
they sent him away to a private parochial 
seminary — St. Berchman's in Marion, Iowa 
— as soon as the administration would take 
him. He was eleven, and he started a tomato 
fight with his brother on the afternoon of his 
leave-taking. Momma didn't even protest, 
despite his ruined clothes and the gory walls 
of the dining room. She merely went to bed 
after his departure and stayed there, listen- 
ing to the blessed silence, for days. 

The sisters at St. Berchman's were strict 
and Don, during the next two years, found 
his ingenuity taxed. This was a challenge. 
He did what a fellow could. In the company 
of two classmates named Mark Tobin and 
Gabriel Vanden Dorpe, he made "French 
beds" in the dorm so that no one could sleep; 
he took up smoking as a habit, since even 
the possession of a cigarette meant, if dis- 
covered, expulsion; he made murals of the 

It was he who started the tradition of bet- 
ting desserts on the outcome of world series 
games, with odds on ice cream. It was his 
agile brain that conceived the notion of trans- 
muting the lead of punishment into gold. 

For misdemeanors, St. Berchman students 
are assigned "numbers": 2 and 2 are 4, and 
3's 7, and 4's 11 — add 100, and on paper. 
Don, in spare study hours, copied out reams 
of these with a trick pen set-up that wrote 

'-— * 

Always a precocious tyke, Don, 
at the age of four, knew what 
he wanted and how to get it 

five at a time, and sold the result to his 
friends for sundry properties. It is signifi- 
cant that at the end of his first year he was 
the richest boy in school. 

At the end of his second year, he suddenly 
assumed an arrogant air and went about as- 
suredly, breaking rules with only the most 
sketchy efforts at concealment. Outraged, 
the sisters gathered in conference to vote his 
expulsion, only to discover that they 
couldn't. Don had the medal for dramatics 
and elocution; he was the lead in the school 
play and the mainstay of the orchestra; he 
was in the diploma class and the medal class 
in every honor group St. Berchman's pos- 
sessed. If they fired him they couldn't have 
any Commencement. 

So, after graduation, he went to Dubuque, 
where he was enrolled at Columbia Private 
High School and College, and where two 
things happened: he was introduced by a 
well-meaning priest, Father Sheehy, to a 
young, fresh-faced, exuberant girl named 
Honore Pandergast; and — in all good faith — 
he decided on a career. By hurried ex- 
change of letters with his father he learned 
that the Ameches thought it would be nice 
if there would be a lawyer in the family, and, 

The pride of Kenosha's Franklin school. 
Wouldn't you know that, even at the 
age of ten, Don (center) would be 
tellin' the other kids what to do! He 
captained the Junior Basketball Team 

Don't be taken in by those innocent 
brown eyes and that angelic look 
on eight-year-old Don. He was a 
devil, as his teachers and playmates 
(and his parents, too) will tell you 



The Ameches with five of an eventual brood of eight. Standing, 
left to right, Don, Betty, and Louis. Sitting, left to right, James; 
Dominic, the father; Bert; and Mrs. Ameche, the mother 

nee he could think of nothing better to sug- 
sst, Don agreed. It was 1922; in that period, 
rith post-War prosperity well on its way, 
hat you trained for was unimportant, 
ou'd be rich anyway. 

IE fell in love. It is possible at fourteen, 
ometimes first love is a far deeper passion 
-surely more dramatic, more painful, more 
astatic — than any later emotion. Chem- 
ally, psychologically, it is possible. 
Young Honore — Nora to the crowd of 
aungsters who made the genial Pander- 
*sts' living room their stamping ground — 
ent to a girls' school in town and had, even 
ien, a chic beyond her years or time, 
mong the gilded children of the Twenties, 
le gleamed of iridium; in an age without 
ste, she was without vulgarity; in the be- 
nning day of the harum-scarum flapper, 
le was smart, poised. 

You understand — she was not prodigious, 

le was not dopey, she was the antithesis of 

dead weight at parties. It was only that 

le did things better than her contempora- 

es — and Don's precocious mind appreciated 

lis. He wooed her ardently, with her help. 

was she, after all, who stopped by the gate 

Columbia of afternoons and waited until 

could appear and escort her to the nearest 

e-cream shop. It was she who paid for her 

vn sodas, since he had invariably spent his 

lowance on the day of its arrival. This, 

ith a daily exchange of devotion via rural 

ee delivery, sufficed for the first year. 

The difference between fourteen and sev- 

lteen is the difference between boy and 

an. Through the long months of the next 

ree years Don and Nora "went steady," 

ew up together, learned together the mean- 

g of love. They went to tea dansants on 

iturday afternoons, jiggling up and down 

1 "Freshie" and doing the open collegiate to 

Jo, No, Nora" and "Sometime." The 

larleston happened to America and along 

the white walls of the Pandergast living 
room a row of handprints made a pattern, 
where the Bunch had practiced. 

Once the boy and the girl quarreled, bit- 
terly. Don was captain of the basketball 
team, and a football star, and on a certain 
Friday Columbia sent him off to attend a Na- 
tional Catholic Athletic Meet. He had a date 
with Nora for that evening, and no time to 
explain beforehand why he couldn't keep it. 

Nora, waiting dressed within an inch of 
her life on the front porch, ate off three ap- 
plications of bright scarlet lipstick and then 
rang another boy who had made no secret 
of the fact that he would like to be Don's 

V INCE was a little surprised, but gallant. 
Yes, he was very glad to hear from her, 
Babe. Yes, he'd be willing — yea, eager — to 
take her dancing that evening. But what 
about the boy friend? What about that big 
husky dope she ran around with? 

"He ditched a date," Nora explained. 
"Nuts to the big boy tonight, huh?" 

"Yeah," said Vince doubtfully. "Nuts." 

The first thing Don heard upon his return 
was of her infidelity. He sent her a letter. 
Among other formal things it stated that he 
was wondering whether or not he still adored 
her quite so much as he used to. "It isn't 
just that you are a two-timing femme," it 
said, "but my care for you is fading." 

The outrageous sentence was not silly to 
Nora at the time. On the contrary, she wept 
stormily for two days. Time, and a turn of 
circumstances, made her understand the 
hilarity of it later. 

Often, just before she rolls over to go to 
sleep, she pokes the man beside her and says, 
"Don? How's your care for me? Fading?" 

Her husband is inured to this by now. 
Usually, if he is very sleepy, he merely 
snorts. Sometimes he makes answer, in de- 

I HE story of Don Ameche is more than 
merely a history of twenty-nine years in a 
man's -life. 

He is, personified, a generation — a period. 
It is necessary that you understand this, if 
you are to understand him. His heyday was 
only yesterday, his prime of maturity now. 
If he had been born six years later he would 
have been one of 1938's modern young; sun- 
burned and wise beyond wisdom, yet with a 
clear-cut cynicism and a determined interest 
in world affairs and vocations and health and 
the coming revolution. 

He would have hit manhood first in the 
early years of a depression, which would 
have been good for him. He would have 
spent his high school and college years to ad- 
vantage, because that is smart to do since 
the world has crashed. He would have got- 
ten drunk occasionally, but only occasionally 
and on good liquor. And he would have 
turned out to be a good lawyer, with an ever- 
growing clientele and a respectable, not a 
breath-taking, income. 

But you see he was eighteen — the begin- 
ning — in 1926, when nothing mattered. He 
was ten, old enough to cry and laugh with 
his elders when the Armistice was signed. 
The first phrase his adolescent mind caught 
and held was "Return to Normalcy." The 
satirical value of that was lost on him and on 
a generation which had faith in nothing and 
patience with nothing and tolerance for 
everything. In a chaos essentially poison to 
youth, one thing remained, dormant but 
potentially magnificent, to help him survive 
at last; the fact that he kept his faith. 

It was a varied faith, first in God and his 
Church, next in himself and in laughter and 
in the almighty omniscience of his luck. 
None of these things failed him, ever. 

He was eighteen, then, and one part of his 
life — that part in which he possessed no per- 
sonal identity — was over, and a new part 
(Continued on page 94) 


Here's the redheaded girl who has 
learned a new way of having fun — a 

formula that takes life for a ride 


IF you were invited to a Hollywood party 
and got a chocolate ice-cream soda instead 
of champagne and were asked to pass a 
scissors around the living room from person 
to person instead of being allowed to watch 
a bevy of nearly nude chorus girls do iniqui- 
tous dances, would you write the folks next 

day and tell them: "Having Wonderful 
Time"? That's the sort of treatment Ginger 
Rogers' guests get when they go to her 
house. And there hasn't been anyone yet 
who had to be dragged there with a rope. 
They love it. They send post cards to the 
folks back home, too. 

"Wonderful," they repeat, underscoring 
the word. "X marks spot where yours truly 
got to be It, playing tag." 

I bet it was Ginger who made the catch. 
She's the one who's having the time — after 
all these years, and at long last. Here's the 
story of a redheaded gal who has found the 
formula for making a shindig out of life; 
who, having spent a good piece of her youth 
working like a fool for a career and being 
married not only to a man but to a profes- 
sion, has shaken herself loose and created 
for herself a freedom that means happiness. 

The Ginger Rogers I talked to the other 

afternoon had an impudent shrug for lov 
an amused smile for other people's opinion 
She's blowing a not-so-figurative tin whist 
at everything, including herself, these day 

She's wise. Somewhere in the discard 
her memory is a man named Lew Ayres, 
whom she is still legally married. With hi: 
is an era in her life, shadowed by stud! 
drudgery and colored by the throes of h 
growing-up process, which she is forgettii 
as fast as she can. She won't even ta. 
about it, nor of him. She hasn't the enerj 
to waste. She's too busy, having a wonde 
ful time. 

This new recipe for her personal confer 
ment has its component parts. It's easi 

Take five or six of the most attractive nn 1 
in Hollywood, one at a time. Sprink 
Friendship-Without-Passion powder ov 
each. Put in a Contract, calling for t. 

salary you want and the privilege of making 
two pictures a year with Fred Astaire, be- 
sides several comedies that star you alone. 
Add one house, built to order, and equipped 
with tennis court, studio, swimming pool, 
soda fountain. Season smartly with a hobby, 
like charcoal drawing, several vacations, a 
fishing rod and a very satisfactory fan mail 
report. Stir gently and take a bath in the 

Why, you'll yell with delight until they 
hear you above the noise in China. 

I LOOKED Ginger up in her dressing room 
last week to ask her about it. I was frankly 
curious: she hadn't been out in public for 
about three months; there hadn't been any 
serious or believable romance attached to 
her name; and yet her friends insisted that 
she was a new person, the happiest one in 
America, practically. 

"I am," she said, when I told her this. She 
looked it, too. 

"Well," I said, "if you know how you did 

it I'd like to know the details. So would at 
least a billion other people in the world. 
What you seem to have is a better mouse- 

"It was no accident." She reached for a 
cigarette. "I've been working up to this for 
a long time — " 

Having decided to make of her existence 
a fine, evolved pattern, Ginger set intelli- 
gently about learning a way of doing things — 
all things — so that they would be fun instead 
of routine. She took the activities, emotions, 
necessities of which her life was composed 
and examined each, individually; one by one, 
she made them work for her ultimate happi- 

There was love, most important of all 
things, to consider first. She decided against 
it. For a while, at least. If, as one day it 
must, love came along and sat down and 
despite all her efforts refused to go away, 
then she would accept it and do her darned- 
est, this time, to make a glorious, lasting 
(Continued on page 72) 

day Singer has an impudent shrug for love, 
merry tin whistle to blow at years gone by 


Beginning a series of hidden chapters that can now 
be told. The first is a strangely beautiful tale of a 
woman who held off Death by the bright shield of her 
laughter and her tender love — "Sweet Samaritan" 

ONLY a few people knew about her 
love story. 
She was not, of course, the kind 
of woman you thought about as the heroine 
of a great romance. The millions of fans 
who crowded the theaters to see her on the 
screen came to her for laughter and there 
is a strange tendency on the part of human 
beings to separate love and laughter. 

Yet that laughter which she shared with 
them for so many years came to them in a 
roundabout way, because it was her great 
gift to him in those days after the War when 
it seemed that he would never laugh again. 
He had left so much of himself in the 

She couldn't bear that, for laughter was 
the very breath of life to him. Their love 
had been born of laughter — and so she used 
everything that was in her to make him 
laugh just once more — and once more — for 
in each day's laughter they cheated death. 
And to her amazement, the world began to 
laugh, too, never dreaming of that twisted 
figure in the wheel chair that was her real 

And she became a movie star. 

That hidden chapter in her life was the 
very essence of her whole personality, for 
it is a fact that real comedy comes only from 
the tender, understanding heart, and that it 
grows best when it has been watered with 
tears and rooted deep in the soil of compas- 
sion and humility and penitence and warmed 
by the sun of faith. 

All these things came to her because she 
loved much. 

The last person, probably, whom you 
would cast for the star in a tale of grande 
passion, yet it seems to me in many ways that 
hers is the greatest of the untold love stories 
of Hollywood. 

|T can be told now, for she is far beyond 
the reach of human misunderstanding, and 
wherever she has gone that love must have 
been waiting for her, laid up among the 
treasures that are incorruptible. Without it, 
we couldn't know her completely or remem- 
ber her as she really was. We have only a 
half-portrait of her. While she was with us, 
she had a strange fear that some people might 
misunderstand the glory of that love, might 
think it a cheap thing; and that she could not 
bear. I always thought that her soul was so 
white that one crimson spot showed on it too 
plainly in her eyes, whereas most of us are 
pretty well speckled with spiritual mistakes 


and they are not so noticeable. 

Even in Hollywood, only a few of her close 
friends knew and remembered. 

I saw her look at one of Hollywood's most 
famous glamour girls one time, and that look 
has stayed with me always. 

The girl was beautiful and young and in 
torment. "I can't bear it," she said. "I can't 
stand it. When I think of losing him, I think 
I shall die." 

"My dear," the older woman said quietly, 
"when we have to bear things, we are given 
the strength to bear them." 

The girl almost screamed. "You can't un- 
derstand. You don't know what it is to be in 
love, to love a man so much you'd die for him 
or die without him, to lie awake nights and 
suffer as I'm suffering." 

The woman's face then looked as I think 
Beethoven must have looked when, deaf to 
every sound in the world, he listened within 
himself to the greatest music of the ages. She 
was, I knew, listening to a great hymn of 
love out of a distant past, a love that had 
never faltered in all the years of loneliness. 

But the glamour girl didn't know. She saw 
only a woman growing old alone, a woman 
who had never married, never had a child, 
never had a lover or a sweetheart, an old 
maid who could only make people laugh. 

They didn't guess, and she was always 
afraid to speak. 

When the glare of the Hollywood spotlight 
fell upon her, she was desperately afraid. 
The theater had never been the center of 
such merciless publicity. A thousand stories 
were hidden behind the curtains that 
dropped every night at the end of the per- 
formances. Besides, she'd never been very 
important in the theater. 

Hollywood always frightened her a little, 
though she never let anyone know it; she put 
on a grand act for Hollywood. She loved it, 
but it was always a far country to her; it 
was never home. She was tied to it only by 
the love she felt for everything living and 
by the great channel it gave her to keep on 
making the world laugh as she had promised 
him she would. 

But I have always wondered how she kept 
that good, hot temper of hers from flaring 
when some of the young things gave her that 
"You don't know how it feels to be in love" — 
remembering the man she had loved and 

served and kept alive, to whom she had sac- 
rificed everything, even that great desire for 
a child which always beat under her breast. 

I NEVER met the man she loved. But some- 
one who knew them both well made him 
seem very real to me, and sometimes she did 
herself, with just a word or two. 

When she first met him, he was a slim, 
wild young fellow with that endearing charm 
which comes with a real love of life. He 
had very bright blue eyes that were always 
twinkling, when they weren't actually laugh- 
ing. He must have been one of those really 
gay people. The monotony of everyday ex- 
istence was difficult for him, but no emer- 
gency was too big and he had been as ex- 
travagant with his emotions as he was with 
his money. 

"Only," this friend told me, "his emotional 
capacity was bottomless and his bank ac- 
count wasn't. He was usually broke, but he 
was one of those rare people who didn't need 
money to have a good time." 

He had run through a small fortune after 
he left college and eventually found his way 
into the theater, first in the box office, I 
think; then, as assistant manager and stage 
manager. She always believed that if the 
War hadn't come along his gift would in- 
evitably have carried him to the top. It may 
be that she was right, for gifts he certainly 

She was in the show of the theater where 
he worked. Not a star, of course. Her 
genius for comedy was still dormant and she 
was never beautiful. A tall, lanky, awkward' 
girl, with an expressive face and a grand 
sense of characterization. She was a perfect 
foil for the comedians — she played opposite 
most of the great ones and I always thought 
she must have absorbed their tricks and 
technique without knowing that she did so. 

There were a dozen girls in the show who 
made eyes at the brown-skinned, blue-eyed 
young assistant manager. But he never did 
more than kid with them, dance with them, 
and go on his way. 

But from the first it was different with 
her, and that seemed strange to most of the 
other girls; for she certainly was the last one 
they'd have picked for anyone so gay and 
so fastidious. 

Perhaps it was just that he was the first 
of the millions who came to love her for her 
warmth and sweetness, the first who saw 
through to the real woman. From the very 
first, she made him laugh. It puzzled her a 
little, but it was tender laughter. She 
learned to watch for that light that came into 
his eyes when he saw her. He was her first 
real audience, the first person who recog- 
nized in her that quality of all encompassing 
(Continued on page 86) 

The crowds came to laugh, to chef 
to applaud her, never dreaming 
that silent figure in the wings, ar 
why he watched and waited the 




MARCH versus TH 

Words from the wise Freddie suffice to solve a 
dilemma familiar to Hollywood; to show, too, why 
he has attained such success as actor and husband 


IF you live in New York or the Middle 
West, you may have had the pleasure be- 
fore this reaches your eyes of having seen 
Fredric March and Florence Eldridge, his 
wife, in the frills and laces of Sir Richard and 
Lady Steele. For they've done this winter 
what years ago the fates prevented them 
from doing — they've appeared opposite each 
other in a play. 

And so, even though the run of the play 
was short, they've made a dream of theirs 
come true. 

Some time after young Frederic Bickel de- 
cided that he'd rather be a poor actor than 
a rich banker, he had the good fortune to 
meet John Cromwell, then a theatrical pro- 
ducer, trying to cast a play called "Tarnish." 
On a hunch of his own, Cromwell engaged 
the unknown Bickel as his juvenile lead. 

It was Cromwell, too, who changed his 


"Bickel's no name for an actor. 


What was 
your mother's maiden name? Marcher? 
Let's see — we want something simple. Ed- 
ward Marcher — John Marcher — John March 
sounds better. How does it strike you?" 

"Cockeyed. I can take the March — in a 
way it belongs to me. But I balk at Johnny. 
I've been Freddie too long." 

"Fredric March, juvenile. Not so bad. 
Now if I can only get the ingenue I want — " 

"Who is she?" 

"I'll let you know when I've signed her." 

Since he didn't sign her, Freddie never 
knew who she was till he and the new Flor- 
ence March were on their honeymoon. One 
day he spoke of Cromwell and the play, 
"Tarnish." Florence said, "He offered me 
the ingenue in that, and I wasn't free to take 

"So it was you," marveled Freddie. "What 
a waste of time — " 

Through the years the Cromwells and 
Marches have remained close friends. When 
the Marches started hunting for a play, it 
was understood that Cromwell would direct 
it. He came in to Freddie one afternoon with 
a script. "I think this is it." 

IT was a comedy drama of the early eigh- 
teenth century, written by Horace Jackson. 
Freddie took it home and read it to Florence. 
As the last line fell from his lips, she rose 
and proffered her hand. "That's it." 

When I went to see Freddie on the set, I 
found him back in the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury, looking simply elegant in the tight 
trousers, tails and burnished boots of the 

French pirate, Lafitte. He was playing the 
fade-out scene for De Mille's "The Buc- 
caneer." Sideburns, a swarthy make-up and 
a swagger little carat-shaped moustache gave 
him an alien look. Under his dark brows, 
he stared somberly out to the sea that was 
now his only home and would be his grave. 

The scene ended, he brought his somber 
gaze and French accent down off the ship. 

"What you wan-n-nt?" he demanded, 
twanging his nasals. "You wan-n-t story? 
Come to dressing room, I geeve you story, 
I geeve you — say, what in blazes is this, any- 

way?" He addressed an invisible someone. 
"I'm going to sue this outfit for willful muti- 
lation of a good Middle Western accent." 

March has an affable way with him. The 
ease that you feel in him on the screen you 
feel in his presence. He melts stiffness by 
assuming its nonexistence. In a spirit com- 
bined of nonchalance and good will, he takes 
over the conversational reins and moves off 
at a pleasant canter. You have only to sit 
quiet and enjoy the ride. 

"What'll it be?" he inquired. "Sense or 
nonsense? Rye bread or toast — ?" 

"Stage or screen?" 

"Both," he returned promptly, "and thanks 
for the chance to go on record. I've heard a 
lot of chatter spilled on both sides, and here's 
my spoonful. Strictly personal, remember. 
One man's opinion, for what it's worth. 

"Screen. Stage." He held up both fore- 
fingers, then crooked the right. "Screen 
speaking. What's the stage good for? Does 
it give you more money, more comfort, more 
security? Why play to thousands when you 
could be playing to millions? If you're in a 
flop picture, you still get paid. If you're in a 
flop play, your notices won't pay the grocer." 

1. A tau, lanrvj , „ 
ressive face and a gr« 
pation. She was a pern 
ians — she played opposJ) 
>nes and I always thoug^ 
bsorbed their tricks 

knowing that she did so.] 

ken girls in the show 

■-•own-skinned, blue-eyecl 

ager. But he never did| 

futhem, dance with them, 



Every man has his loves — 
and Fredric March proves 
no exception to the rule. 
An even five serve to 
keep this star busy — and 
happy. Three of them — 
Penny, wife Florence and 
Tony (top) ... go where 
he goes; the fourth await- 
ed him in N. Y. A fifth 
is typified by an offstage 
shot of the Marches (left) 
and by a scene from "The 
Buccaneer" (above) with 
newcomer Franciska Gaal 

He crooked the left forefinger. "Stage 
speaking. The screen's an industry, the stage 
is an art. They roll you up in a can and send 
you out like so much spinach. They muffle 
you, they gag you, they type you, they regi- 
ment you, they make you a puppet dancing 
to a director's tune. They give you five years 
and dump you into the dustbin. They — shal] 
I go on or do you get the general idea?" 

He dropped his fingers. "Freddie March 
speaking — out of the fullness of his experi- 
ence and the folly of not knowing how to 
keep his mouth shut. And I think if I tell you 
exactly what happened to me, I can give you 
a clearer notion of what I'm driving at. 

"I didn't cut any figure in the theater when 
I came to Hollywood. I was still in the 
struggling phase. For all I know, I might 
have stayed there. Or gone back to the 
bank. Luckily for me, it can't be proved 
either way. I was lured to the movies be- 
cause of the money in it. Why shouldn't I 
say so? Nine out of ten — make it nine and 
three quarters — are lured for the same rea- 

"On the other hand (put this to my credit) 
[ didn't sneer at the movies. I didn't take 
their money with one fist and sock 'em in the 
jaw with the other. I thought they were put- 
ting on plenty of trash. Well, doesn't the 
stage? I also thought that the trend was 
away from trash. I saw them doing things I 
thought it would be exciting to go in and do 
with them. I thought, for anything as new 
in the field as they were, they hadn't much to 
apologize for. 

"Certainly they owe me nothing in the way 
of apology. They gave me money and com- 
fort and security and a chance to act in some 
fine pictures. When I started, my name 
meant little in the entertainment world. 
Whatever it means now, I owe to the screen. 
I'm not sticking my finger in my mouth, and 
denying I had anything to do with it myself. 
I did my best. But the movies gave me the 
chance to do that best. 

"I was grateful. I was shocked when cer- 
tain business advisers wanted me to ask for 
an adjustment after 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. 
(Continued on page 82) 


Carole Lomb 

Lana Turner 


Do you know which girls pictured opposite are members of the "Clam 
Club"? Who's called "nice guy"? "Sphinx"? "Fairy Godmother"? 

More than 300 Hollywood commentators can and do tell you 
how the Hollywood girls rate as stars — but there's just one sure 
way of finding out how the Glamour Girls stack up as regulars 


YOU have only to lean over your back 
fence some morning to learn what Mrs. 
Smith's Aunt Ellen has heard about 
Anastasia Eyelashes. 

You have only to keep your ear cocked 
while being prettied-up in your beauty par- 
lor to learn what the President of the Ladies' 
Aid told her manicurist about That Certain 
Leading Man. 

You have only to consult statistics to learn 
which of the Hollywood girls are most per- 
sistently courted by Beau Box Office. 

There are three hundred odd Hollywood 
commentators to tell you that all the boys are 
rushing Lana Turner; that Madeleine Car- 
roll is the most beautiful girl in town; that 
Percy Profile and Patsy Pout have pf-t-t-t. 

Everybody knows, or can easily find out, 
in just what measure of repute (ill or other- 
wise) the various Hollywood girls are held 
by columnists, exhibitors and Walla Walli- 
ans. But little consideration has been given 
to the stars' Hollywood reputations. By that, 
I do not mean those reputations which in- 
volve top billing, polo playing, or the size of 
the weekly stipend — but their reputations as 
mere people. 

Just how do the Glamour Girls stack up 
along the latter line? Well, there's one sure 
way of finding out. 

Don't ask their press agents. Don't ask 
their bosses. Don't ask the people who bathe 
in their swimming pools and share their 
caviar. And, for heaven's sake, don't ask 
the people who have bet on their horses. 

If you really want to find out how a movie 
queen ticks, ask the people who work with 

Ask the bit player who once muffed his 
line right smack in the middle of her best 
"take." Ask the fitter who has (literally) 
stuck pins in her during a two-hour fitting 
stretch. Ask the unit man in the publicity 
department who must persuade her to pose 
with her arms around the lion's neck during 
"Be Kind to Animals" week. Ask the make- 
up man who must work on the lady star at 
the blue (and breakfastless) hour of 7 A.M. 
when the lady's tongue is apt to be as sour 
as her stomach. 

Ask their directors, their photographers 
and the lowest salaried laborers on their sets. 
Ask the people who are around all during 
the tedium of a twelve-hour working day, 

for it is then that a bad disposition, like mur- 
der, will out. 

No star can escape the keen perceptions of 
the people who must please her, and she has 
no way of exercising jurisdiction over their 
private opinions, some of which can't be 

/ OU hear a lot about the temperamental 
proclivities of Hollywood actresses, and no 
one can deny that Hollywood does nourish 
a few nasty-tempered Pickle Pusses at its 
celluloid bosom. Certainly no one can deny 
that there are a few picture personalities 
who can, and do, create a static atmosphere 
wherever they happen to be present. 

With some, as with Katharine Hepburn, 
it's an act. With others, as with Constance 
Bennett, it's simply the result of a highly 
volatile disposition. 

Miss Bennett is one of the positive-plus 

It was Constance who started me out on 
the wrong foot about movie stars. That was 
six years ago, just a few weeks after I landed 
my first job as a "legger" for a now defunct 
trade paper. 

One of my initial assignments was to cover 
Miss Bennett's marriage to her Marquis. 

There w r ere about fifteen press representa- 
tives who went to the home of George Fitz- 
maurice that afternoon, the day of Connie's 
wedding, and every one of them was more 
important than I. I was just a cub reporter 
who, for fifteen dollars a week, had a job to 
do. I took it pretty doggone seriously. 

None of us that day had asked to be wined 
at Connie's wedding supper, or even to view 
the ceremony, but we did want a peek at 
the bride's ensemble and perhaps a chance 
to ask a question or two. 

I suppose a gal has a right to run her own 
wedding, but I think Connie would have won 
fifteen loyal friends right then and there, if 
only she hadn't kept us outside, warming the 
curbstone for three hours with nothing but 
a November chill for company. 

/\S it was, the newspaper accounts describ- 
ing how Connie became the Marquise le 
Bailly de la Falaise de la Coudraye were 
none too kindly. 

One reporter, unable to contain himself 
longer, went into print with these words: 
" — reporters who, by means of colorful word 
pictures, had built Connie into the dream 
idol of romance-hungry working girls, sud- 
denly became anathema to her. For three 
hours they could not get within a mile of 
Connie, and when they did manage to ex- 
change words with her she treated them to a 
verbal sleight-of-hand exhibition that would 
put Houdini to shame." 

Since then, Hollywood correspondents 
have often discussed Connie among them- 
selves, and I, for one, have always wondered 
why she adopted such exaggerated indiffer- 
ence to less important people whose jobs, 
nevertheless, were as important to them as 
hers was to her. You see, I can't help re- 
membering some of the truly great artists — 
George Arliss, Marie Dressier, Madame 
Schumann-Heink — who somehow always 
found time to see me even though I was only 
a punk kid whose editorial opinions no one 
cared about or needed. 

No doubt you've heard of Hollywood's 

Clam Club. Garbo is President, Katharine 

(Continued on page 74) 



It's the strangest situation in Holly- 
wood — this happy May-December 
marriage. Here's the truth behind it 

it, if 

the truth were 
Barrymore, "is 

"HE truth of 
known," said 
rather nice." 

This most colorful one of the Royal Family 
of actors was discussing his fourth wife and 
what she has done for him. He wouldn't 
have to discuss Elaine, himself, love, or any 
other given topic, to hold your interest. He 
is no longer young, but he could keep a deb- 
utante absorbed in an exposition of the more 
complicated movements of a rotary engine. 
He could spellbind a gangster with a running 
commentary on the pros and contras of the 
Baconian theory. He could probably keep 
an eel from wriggling for as long as he chose 
to exercise his gift of tongues. He can make 
words pirouette and turn handsprings and 
jump through hoops. He can pierce human 
follies, including his own, with the thrust of 
a phrase full of glee and free of malice. 

He is master of all forms of humor, from 
•the Rabelaisian on up or down to the most 
gently ironic. The sallies he tosses over- 
board would suffice to make half a dozen 
reputations for wit. For, no matter what 
has happened, he is still John Barrymore and 
it is a pleasure to hear him talk. 

Now, by request, he was talking about 
Elaine and himself. For theirs has been a 
more startling and stormy romance than ever 
a scenario writer dreamed of — and one 
which now has worked out into a true love 

"If it amuses people in Dubuque to think 
that you jump off roofs and bounce back up 
again, let them be amused, bless their hearts; 

A girl of twenty married a man of fifty- 
four. Contrary to all expectations, 
that marriage is a success — because 
Elaine Barrie dared to do something no 
Barrymore wife had ever done before. 
John, himself, tells you the facts 

it's got nothing to do with you," John Barry- 
more said. "If they tell each other that you 
wear your hair down to your nose because 
you're really a potato some farmer forgot to 
dig up, well then, you're contributing to folk 
fantasy, which makes you a public benefac- 
tor and a poet to boot, and does you in your- 
self no appreciable harm. 

"The moment you're a public figure, you 
belong in a sense to the public. If they choose 
to translate you into a hero or a scarecrow, 
that's their privilege and what difference can 
it possibly make to you? Publicity depends 
on the transmitter. If Nick Carter inter- 
viewed Mussolini, he'd make a whale of a 
good dime novel out of the interview. Wil- 
liam James would make a psychological 
study, Winchell a nifty. Mussolini remains 
what he is. 

"So far as I'm concerned, I blame no one 
for what he thinks. I've been a reasonable 
figure of absurdity for a number of years- 
Punchinello today, Melpomene tomorrow, 

Benedict forever. My — romance, shall we 
call it — " his brows rose in an arch at once 
saturnine and benign; then, with a formal 
inclination of the head, "romance, with your 
cherished permission, remains what it is. 
And the truth of it, if the truth were known, 
is rather nice — " 

He went as far back to the beginnings of 
this colorful Twentieth-Century romance as 
any great story teller ever needs go. 

LYING ill in a New York hospital, John 
Barrymore flipped open one of a dozen let- 
ters that had come in the morning mail. That 
letter was from a girl at Hunter College, ask- 
ing whether she might interview him for the 
school paper. "She was going to be a news- 
paper woman," he observed parenthetically, 
"till she met me. Then she became news- 
paper copy." 

Normally, he'd have tossed the letter to 

the floor. Why he didn't this time, he can't 

(Continued on page 81) 



r hat Lombard girl, who has all of 

he gravy and none of the grief — 

ios she earned those rare privileges? 


N Hollywood they say that Carole Lom- 
bard gets away with murder — that's what 
they say. 

They say it because they think an actress 
hould stick to acting, and they cite the cases 
f Gloria Swanson and Ruth Chatterton who 
arned the hard way, learned that even girls 
rith divine histrionic talents aren't fitted to 
un the show behind the camera as well as 
i front of it. "They" also point to Holly- 
/ood's extra ranks which are replete with 
roof that artists often have extraordinarily 
ad business heads. 

Of course, an actress' attitude toward her 
areer goes through a perfectly natural meta- 
lorphosis as she graduates from the leg-art 
lass and works her way up to the top spot 
n the credit sheets. During her years as an 
mbryonic celestial she was a thing of joy to 
he studio. She did as she was told. She 
/as the studio Pandora when the publicity 
epartment was in a pinch. Ah, yes, she was 
n awfully good girl back in those days when 
he had little to do but look well in a drafty 
athing costume. 

But now — now Crosby croons her love 
Ongs and Gable treats her tenderly; and 
he's a big star who makes a lot of money; 
nd — well — isn't it about time she spoke up 
i meetin' and set out to have a few things 
er own way? 

It's at this point that most Hollywood pro- 
ducers take to their crying chairs. It's their 
ontention — their most definite opinion, in 
act — that actors are creative, and therefore 
re persons of highly combustible disposi- 
ions who should be pampered as little as 

When Jimmy Cagney decided he was mak- 
ag too many pictures a year at Warner 
brothers, the studio went to court to squelch 
uch an alarming display of independence. 
Varners lost on a technicality and Jimmy 
/on his freedom — but Warners' was the 
loral victory because the redheaded actor 
3 definitely not the box-office draw he used 
o be. 

Girls like Joan Crawford and Claudette 
'olbert deserve every credit for their pro- 

There's not a producer in Holly- 
wood who wouldn't jump at the 
chance to put this dynamic young 
blonde under contract— at her 
own price. What's the answer? 

fessional records, but it's an interesting fact 
that in each of their cases the only pictures 
they made that fared really poorly at the box 
office recently were stories they both fought 
for. In Joan's case it was "Rain"; in Claud- 
ette's it was "Maid of Salem." 

NATURALLY, both producer and star 
have their just arguments (and I ain't takin' 
sides!) . However, people can say what they 
like about "buttonhole-makers" when they 
refer to movie producers, but no executive 
is deliberately out to ruin his own product. 
After all, the Thalbergs and the Goldwyns 
were already guiding influences in a million- 
dollar industry, with their fingers firmly on 
the public pulse, when the Joan Crawfords 
were still winning beauty contests. And 
these same producers feel that the less con- 
trol a star is given over her own career, the 
happier the whole movie family will be. 

This policy has provoked many a pro- 
ducer-actor battle. It's one of the things that 

lends excitement to the Hollywood scene. 
But, while the betting is usually even, the 
producers seem to have an edge on the vic- 
tor's side — judging from the cases of Bette 
Davis, Myrna Loy, Ann Dvorak, Constance 
Bennett and Mr. Cagney. 

Then — along comes Carole Lombard who 
demands a lot of almost unheard-of priv- 
ileges — and gets them! Not only that, but 
she got them with a minimum of unpleasant- 
ness. There were no suits or sulks on either 
side. Not a sour grape was thrown. 

Well, when that happened the - Hollywood 
gang simply had to say something about it, 
and so they said — "the gal gets away with 


Facts, you know, are sometimes like 
horses — they look entirely different when 
viewed from two different directions! 

And so it is with the facts about Carole. 

Consider her particular state of stardom 

(Coyitiniied on page 88) 

The father said, "He's In no fit shape to get into anyone's car." Said the mother, "He's only a little sick." Said the boy— 



Through a strange and arresting story, a great 
novelist gives you, the film audience of the 
present, his idea for the movies of the future 


A MAN living as I do, most of the 
^^L year in a small town, visiting neigh- 
f \ boring towns, picking up an occa- 
ional country man in his car, talking with 
im, talking to town men and women, try- 
ing to get sense of the feel for life in these 
people . . . such a one can't help thinking 
more and more about the movies. 

They do seem to offer such a wide sweep- 
ng opportunity. 

For what? 

It comes back to a question of what these 
Deople, for that matter, all American people 

On the surface of life there can be no ques- 
ion of the profound effect the movies al- 
ready have. A man sees it on the bathing 
)each of a little mountain lake in the moun- 
ains near my farm. There you see young 
;irls from farms, from near-by towns, striv- 
ng heroically to imitate, in movement, in 

pose, in a way of walking, some movie queen. 
I have an idea that our women are more ef- 
fected than our men. It may be that the 
modern mechanical development of life has 
freed women more than men. There is a 
certain dullness and sameness to small-town 
life. There is the temptation to live in this 
dream world, always being fed by the 

Any man who writes is always looking at 
people, thinking about them, trying even to 
think with them. For us storytellers, people 
are our materials. A man tries constantly 
to lose himself in others. 

What do these others want? 

Perhaps, after all, we want only escape 
from self. 

I HERE is a good deal to be said for romance. 
We more serious storymakers are always 
trying to arrive at a thing we call "truth 
to live." It is mighty elusive. Not many 
of us can escape the grind of existence. The 
coal miner who spends five or six days out 
of every week buried away in a dirty hole 
down under the ground, and who comes 
home to a shack in a company-owned coal- 
mining town, crying children on the floor, a 
tired and overworked wife — such a man goes 
off, on a Saturday night, with two or three 
comrades, to get drunk. 

There is his break in an admittedly dreary 
existence. Your drunken miner feels sud- 
denly brave and big. He slaps his comrades 

on the back; boasts of the number of tons 
of coal he has dug out of the earth during 
the week; even, perhaps, on his staggering 
way homeward, with one or two other min- 
ers, he joins in a song, or speaks a little ten- 
derly of his wife. 

"The old girl will give me hell again when 
I get home, but things are tough on her, too. 
I'm going to blow her and the kids out to the 
movies, that's what I'm going to do." 

The movies are a kind of drunkenness for 
her and the kids, too. 

I HERE are all these strange people, out of 
this strange other world, so close there, as 
you sit in the small-town movie theater. If 
you let yourself go you can imagine yourself 
up there on the screen with them. You go 
into such houses as, in the real life you seem 
destined to go on living, you know you will 
never enter. 

. You are in the house of a millionaire and 
a butler enters. You see people eating rich 
foods, see how the insides of rich people's 
houses are furnished. 

You hear these faraway people, now 
brought close. They are talking. You are 
at Saratoga, at the races, you are in strange 
foreign cities, on an ocean liner going to 
Europe, in an African village, in a Western 
gold-mining town. You see kings ride 
through cities, hear their voices speaking. 

Up and down the earth you go, in and out 
of cities, in and out of houses. You fly 
through the air, walk in strange streets. 

You are there in the little movie theater 
with the farmers, who all day have been cut- 
ting corn, or plowing for next year's wheat. 
The little merchant who is about to fail in 
business, who owes a note at the bank he 
can't pay, is there with his wife and daugh- 
ter. His daughter is tall and handsome. She 
has arranged her hair after a style copied 
from some movie queen. The man who 
cleans the town streets has come with his 
tired-looking wife. She has been ill for a 
long time but is trying heroically to carry 
on, to do her own housework, keep her little 
rented house neat and clean for her man. 

These and dozens, even hundreds, of others 
you have come to know rather well, all 
crowded into the little theater. A book to 
read tonight would cost a dollar, two dollars, 
three dollars. We can go to our little movie 
theater for twenty-five cents. 

It's good anyway to get away from the 
house and among people. 

However, there is something. There is al- 
ways present a kind of stinging regret. 

Why is it that presently, when we go out 
of the theater, there is this letdown. So 
many of these lives, pictured here on the 
screen, stay so far away. They stay forever 
in this queer dream world we try so hard 
to draw close to and can't. 

Couldn't something be done to make more 
real our own lives? 

/\ YOUNG man is sitting near me in the 
movie theater. ' He is a young fellow of 
twenty-two. He has a rather strong, serious 
face. He is sitting with his father and mother 
and with a younger sister, a girl of fourteen. 
It happens, you see, that I know this fam- 
ily. The father, a . tall thin man with big 
gnarled hands, has come to the theater in his 
overalls. They have, however, been freshly 
washed and he has had a shave. 

(Continued on page 93) 



To a question that has bothered 

many of us, this brilliant actor gives 
an amazing and inspirational answer 


SOME thirty years ago, in one of the large 
apartment buildings on Prospect Ave- 
nue in Milwaukee, a pair of distraught 
parents faced one another. The mother said, 
between tears and nervous laughter, "He's 
run away again." The father answered, "I 
have developed all of the abilities of a master 
sleuth since he came into the world. But I'll 
track him down, never fear." 

And he did. He tracked the small, sturdy 
boy down to the South Side, found him play- 
ing Cops and Robbers in an alley behind a 
saloon, with two youngsters known by the 
tasty names of "Mousie" and "Ratty," sons 
of a saloon keeper. 

So the small boy was returned to his 
mother, there to be gathered to her heart and 
wept over. The small boy wept, too, with 
the quick rich sympathy for another's pain 
which was his even then. But even as he 
wept he knew that he would always want to 
run away, all of his life. 

A few years later this same boy, now in his 
teens, sat, one night, at the family dinner 
table, trying to muster up the courage to 
tell his parents that he wanted to join the 
marines; that he meant to lie about his age, 
if necessary, for love of his country. The 
restive youth sat at the table, clearing his 
throat loudly and repeatedly; but when the 
folks would look at him with their warm 
affectionate eyes, he'd ask them to pass the 

He did, a few days later, try to join the 
marines; told the truth about his age and was 
rejected. Next, he tried to join the United 

States Navy; meant to lie about his age but 
when faced with it found that he couldn't; 
told the truth again — and was accepted. 
Then he had to tell the folks. He walked 
around the block fifteen times and chewed 
seven packages of gum before he could mus- 
ter up the courage. Then he barged home 
and his mother wept and his father patted 
him on the back with a big hand that shook 
and two days later he was off for the naval 
training station at Norfolk, Virginia. He 
fought the war at Norfolk, looking eastward 
to the sea. A cruise in a whaling ship was 
as near as he got to France. 

The rest is, for the most part, recorded 
Tracy history. 

For the little boy was Spence, of course. 
And Spence, today, is the same little boy. 

WHICH all leads up to what Spence told 
me recently across the teacups in the M-G-M 
commissary. (Spence has become a habitual 
tea drinker.) 

He said, "I'm thirty-seven now. I'm facing 
forty. I'm beginning to take stock of myself. 
I'm trying to make a map of where I've been 
and where I'm going. 

"I'm trying to appraise myself, find out 
what I am, what are my assets and what my 
liabilities. I'm trying to make a list of what 
I've accomplished in, say, the past five years. 
And another list of what I'd like to accom- 
plish in the next five or fifty. 

"First, I take a look in the mirror and know 
that anything can happen! I must be the 
Miracle Man, no foolin'! For I take a look 
— and what do I see? I see a guy who's get- 
ting away with murder! 

"I don't look like an actor, not even to 
myself. I don't look like any actor I've ever 
seen. I'm just a plain-looking mug who 
might be driving a truck if things ran ac- 
cording to magazine covers. 

"Next, I try to figure my outstanding char- 
acteristic. Is it brains? Nope. Is it fire, the 
kind that sweeps everyone and everything 
along in front of it? Nope. And then I elim- 
inate most of the qualities that make a man 
a little important and I come to nerve. 

"That's the answer. That's what I've got 
the most of — nerve. For it takes the helluva 

lot of nerve, when you come to think of it, 
to be competing in the same medium with 
these Gables and Taylors and all. 

I HEN," Spence said, "I check back and 

make notes on what I've accomplished; the 

things I've done that have meant the most 

to me. First, there was my move to M-G-M. 

That opened doors to me, gave me the chance 

to make 'San Francisco' and 'Captains 

Courageous' and 'Fury.' 

"Then there was knowing Will Rogers. 
You can't have had Bill for a friend and not 
be more of a man than ever you were before. 
There was the birth of my daughter and 
there is the progress my son Johnny has 
made, in school and in every way. And there 
L having one farm all paid for. These are 
the things that have meant the most to me in 
the past five years. 

"And now I'll kind of check myself over, 
figure out a bit what are my virtues and 
vices, faults, good points, habits, and so on 
. . . well, I'm not extravagant, I'll say that. 
I have my polo ponies, but they are my only 
luxury. I don't have a yacht. I haven't got 
a 'little place' down at Palm Springs or Mal- 
ibu. We've only got the house we live in, 
all bought and paid for. I haven't any hob- 
bies or 'collecting' bees in my bonnet. I 
don't belong to ritzy clubs. I don't gamble. 
I don't even play cards, can't sit still long 
enough. I don't give a damn about clothes. 

"I'm not temperamental. I'm not fussy 
about details. I always put my 'o.k.' on stills 
— if I bother to look at them. I do have defi- 
nite convictions. When I feel a conviction 
working on me I'll fight for it, being Irish. 
But what I fight for has got to concern me 
deeply. I only fight when I have to, not just, 
for the hell of it. 

"I've got one big virtue, just one — punctu- 
ality. I'm the On-Time Guy all the time. In 
fact, I'm the best set-opener-upper in this 
business. Whenever I have an appointment 
of any kind I'm always there, chewing my 
fingernails, twenty minutes ahead of the 
other fellow. 

"I think I'm a pretty good businessman but 
I haven't any consuming ambition to possess 
a lot of money. I'm one of those who be- 
lieves that you can only sleep in one bed at 
a time, ride one horse, eat one meal, wear 
one suit of clothes. 

"I'm too trusting. I always believe the 

best of people and often get fooled. I like 

people, like to have people around me. I'm 

not self-confident, iar from it. I never start 

(Continued on page 91) 

Left: Spencer (with his mother) in his 
costume of the priest in "San Fran- 
cisco." It was this role that con- 
firmed a secret theory of his and 
changed his "after forty" plans 


The lovely words of Byron's poem 

fit Del Rio like a glove. Take a hint 

from her and walk in beauty, too 



E spun the lovely words of Byron's 
poem over in our mind: 

"She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; 
And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;" 

We knew the one woman who was like the 
poem. We wanted to ask that one woman 
the one question that has always bothered 
us: how does a great beauty judge other 

"Is your opinion," we asked, "predicated 
upon an exquisite complexion? Lovely 
hair? A smartly gowned, fine figure? Deli- 
cate hands? Interesting eyes? A sense of 
humor? Or what?" 

And the one woman who is like the poem, 
the magnificent Mrs. Gibbons, whose other 
name is Dolores Del Rio, answered us quick- 
ly, emphatically, "I judge by one thing . . . 
she must be soignee!" 

We flipped back the mental pages of our 
French-English dictionary and remembered 
that soignee meant not only dressed accord- 
ing to style, but also, no room for criticism 
in any form ... a woman who was as she 
should be, in all qualifications. 

"It takes much work. It takes constant 
self-discipline. It takes schedule." She saw 
the predatory look in our eyes, and went on, 
"And since you ask me, I shall tell you what 
I, myself, do." 

Impressed, we grasped our pencil firmly, 
listened carefully, made notes meticulously, 
and wrote the following. It's the how, the 
when, the why of being soignee — Del Rio 

I IRST of all, regardless of her own qualifica- 
tions, Dolores Del Rio has a husband who is 
a thoroughly artistic, distinguished and hand- 
some gentleman. For several years Cedric 
Gibbons has been the art director of Metro- 
Goldwyn-Mayer, and is responsible for the 
fine, tasteful backgrounds of their pictures. 
The home he has created for Mrs. Gibbons, 
in the modern style, is a perfect setting for 
her, and he likes to see her each evening 
when she comes down either to dine with 
him, or ready to accompany him to some 
glorified Hollywood party, in that setting. 

He also likes to see her, not when she is 

dressing, not when she is debating what gown 

to wear, not when she is powdering her sun- 

( Continued on page 78) 







Lana Turner (far left) cuts a mighty cute figure while Mrs. Tom 
Brown (upper left) shows Billie Dove and Tom it's all in the legs; 
and Kay Francis (lower left) Shags with Ray Bolger. Even 
a busy executive and his wife, the Jack Warners (above left), 
Truck. Singled out to "Rise and Shine," Claire Trevor shines 
with her eyes shut when Jimmy Ritz improvises. But the sur- 
prise of them all is Marlene Dietrich (above) with Hal Roach 

Once stardom waned for this 
veteran but after "In Old Ari- 
zona" it was brighter than ever 

A gangster role in a stage play 
won him a film contract but they 
said he'd never make a star 

Ernest Carlton Brimmer is his 
real name. A saga of the early 
West won him greatest acclaim 

His superb interpretation of 
life of a famous scientist m< 
him last year's "finest act 

They're as well known to you as your 
next door neighbor — but do you recog- 

nize them here? Check up on page 92 

He frightened little children in this m 
up but the Academy statuette was 
just reward for what fine performar 

Gary Cooper, in his latest picture, has the support 
of a fine character actor. Do you recognize him? 

Director Lloyd Bacon and Robert Montgomery 
are amused at what this star has done for art 

tish by birth, Hollywood has 
ought him his greatest success, 
s's in England now making films 

He first starred in Western films 
but proved he was as versatile in 
the salon as in the saddle 

She came to films from musicals, 
they cast her in drama, now they 
discover she's a fine comedienne 

Usually a portrayer of suave 
roles, who breathed life into 
what Victor Hugo character? 

little old lady isn't Whistler's 
™er — she's America's No. I box-of- 
aristocrat and a world favorite 

You haven't seen her on the screen for more 
than a year — but Hollywood's first lady 
of sophisticated roles is returning soon 


Teddy Roosevelt came to life again when what- 
the-heck actor played this role with Babs Stanwyck 


Slant-eyed Orientals — one famous for gangster 
roles, the other for beauty. Recognize them? 

Her father named her Myrna after a flag- 
stop on a hick railroad; she picked up the 
Loy on a detour through vamp roles. But hej 
fans made her 1937's Queen of the M 








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*»•" ^«*S5*- 

9.0^* «r«*V Wf i** 











* v 







• **?&' 






; ^ e 

Robin (Errol Flynn) entertains his 
prisoners, Lady Marian (Olivia de 
Havilland), Sir Guy (Basil Rath- 
bone), Sheriff (Melville Cooper) 

Straight from Hollywood! Highlights in the Warner 

Bros. Technicolor film, "Robin Hood/' Photographs 

follow the pages torn from an actual shooting script 

<^> 35* 



SHOOTING from the outlaw' e anrte, as the Friar 
carries Robin. Thie time Robin is enjoying himself, 
whacking Friar Tuck across the butt with the flat of 
hie sword, and treating him like a captious steed. 
But in midstream the friar gives a mighty heave and 
Robin goes flying over hip head into the stream. 
He manages to retain his sword but when he does, 
thigh deep in water, Friar Tuck is waiting for him, 
sword in hand. Without further r>ords they cross 


The die logue waxes hot, the fight hotter, as Robin and Little 
John (Alan Hale) battle with staffs in the middle of the bridqe. 
Rob.n ends in the creek but Little John joins his outlaw band. 
Below: Little John catches merry Friar Tuck (Eugene Pallette) 
pulling a fast.e as King Richard (Ian Hunter) looks on in 
amusement. Lower Left: Robin and Friar Tuck in hectic 
battle to see will carry the other ashore. Neither wins 


















As Marian approaches them. She is nervous but determined 

B S&£ 

I "ant to help himt 

How did you find us here? 

Never mind that nowl Oh, please — 
don't stand there staring! Tell me 
what I can do| 

Friar Tuck looks at her long and earnestly. There are 
tears in her eyes. He turns to the others. 

She' 8 speaking truth. 

(to liarian) 
Have you thought of anything? 


( they cluster 
around her) 

Above: Robin has just won an archery tournament 
that has placed him in the hands of his enemies, the 
Normans. Sir Guy and Prince John (Claude Rains) 
now order his arrest. Robin is captured after a ter- 
rific sword fight between Prince John's men and the 
outlaw band. Below: Marian, ward of King 
Richard and Robin's lady fair, risks her life to escape 
from Nottingham Castle and joins Robin's band at an 
inn near the outskirts of Sherwood forest. Here she 
seeks aid in a desperate plan to help Robin Hood 





Scion of the Hollywood that has made him both 
famous and afraid of fame, this young Ne- 
braskan is now the victorious "Yank at Oxford." 
Still young enough to like polo shirts, victrolas 
and new ties, he's adored by many girls, adores 
only one. Earnestly anxious to be a good actor, 
he's also inordinately proud of the grain busi- 
ness in his own home town, for, should acting 
fail, he wants to be Robert Taylor, businessman 

Possessor of the husky voice of Sunday-night 
radio repute — Dorothy Lamour. After her 
one year of screen work, American wives 
(and husbands) think she's glamorous; pro- 
ducers know she's box-office. On the set, 
she handles her roles intelligently (witness 

IITI B» 1» I llll IT II _• 1 1--LI-, 

the wife business likewise, with young or- 
chestra leader Herbie Kay as beneficiary! 


X ~ * - ' — * ****** * 





•y ■ 


1 /• 

a Broadway show — "Fine and Dandy' 

tonic Pavlowa improvising ballets 


The "World's Greatest Feminine Tap Dancer" saw the 
light of day 24 years ago in Springfield, Mass . . . her 
friends call her Ding . . . long-legged and awkward, she 
went to dancing school not to become a dancer but 
to overcome shyness ... a new world opened to her 
... at 12 Gus Edwards discovered her doing acrobatic 
routines on the sands of Atlantic City . . . signed her 
for a kid revue . . . same season danced in a night club 
revue at $75 per week . . . following two summers found 
her dancing at an exclusive club in Atlantic City . . . 
was honor student throughout school but decided on 
Broadway rather than college . . . tap dancing lessons 
from Jack Donohue put her in line for a job with Ben 
Bernie at his club Intime . . . when engagement ended 
tramped streets for months before landing role in 
"Follow Thru." . . . "Fine and Dandy," Ziegfeld's "Hot 
Cha," "The Varieties" followed . . . "George White's 
Scandals" took her to Hollywood . . . she created no 
excitement and was again doing four-a-day on Broad- 
way when M-G-M signed her for "Broadway Melody 
of 1936" ... is five feet six and a half inches tall . . . 
weighs one twenty pounds . . . her eyes are blue and 
her hair reddish brown ... no time for marriage now 


Background: the opening scenes of 
Paramount's new Continental comedy, 
with stars Gary Cooper and Claudette 
Colbert. Setting: a department store 
in Nice. Situation: the problem all has 
to do with the purchase of a pair of 
pyjamas. Gary wants to buy only the 
tops! Claudette, a complete stranger 
and French, enters and offers to buy 
just the trousers! That, as you can 
imagine, leads to things! Perhaps the 
most versatile actor in the whole pro- 
duction is one you'll never see on the 
screen — Director Lubitsch himself, who 
tries on pyjamas and makes love to 
Claudette (all for art) with a technique 
that merits an Academy award 




love and the pursuit of fun — 

hat's the formula for this month*: 

eadline news of the gay Gold Coast 


VIRGINIA BRUCE calls her new groom 
ack— which proves that habit is strong, 
ack Gilbert was her first husband. J. 
which may account for the Jack) Walter 
uben is her second. 

A first marriage has taught her practica- 
lity, Virginia claims. Instead of a mon- 
rous diamond engagement ring, Virginia 
iked for a family town car and got it. 
Together, they bought a cozy Beverly 
ills home and had the wedding ceremony 

held there. Mr. Ruben carried his bride out 
of the house instead of over the threshold. 
The bride, need we add, never looked 


IT was all caused by those two hundred 
monkeys that escaped from the zoo scene 
in Bing Crosby's new picture, "Doctor 
Rhythm." Overnight the monkeys made a 
wholesale exodus from the studio lot, leav- 
ing the entire town of Hollywood alive with 
capering animals. 

Workmen in a near-by factory practically 
swooned when the place was suddenly alive 

Celebrants at the Ruben-Bruce 
wedding reception: (back row) 
Countess di Frasso, Kay Francis, 
the Jack Warners. Front row: Mrs. 
Bert Taylor, Mr. and Mrs. Ruben, 
Mr. Taylor. Left: a major film 
problem is mastered by Selznick in- 
genuity — this card is given in elo- 
quent silence to studio callers 

with jibbering monkeys. A hysterical neigh- 
bor lady even summoned the local police to 
remove one from under her bed. 

A reward of two dollars each brought back 
a few of the monkeys, but somewhere in 
Hollywood thirty-eight monkeys have de- 
cided to go native. 


W HEN Spencer Tracy returned home from 
the preview of "Mannequin," in which he 
shared honors with Joan Crawford, he 
found a registered letter containing a new 
M-G-M contract which boosted his salary an 
even thousand dollars a week. 



» HE gaiety of Marlene Dietrich since her 
return from Europe has all Hollywood won- 
dering, especially since Marlene's screen 
future seems slightly problematic, what with 
her Paramount contract at an end. How- 
ever, Marlene doesn't seem at all depressed 
— she has become the greatest exponent of 
the "Susy Q" this town possesses. 

The other day at a very sedate party given 
by Dolores Del Rio, Marlene began to dance 
and, before the evening was over, she had 
Errol Flynn, Lili Damita, Cedric Gibbons 
and Dolores deep in the midst of the hottest 
Big Apple imaginable. 


VvHEN it came time for Carole Lombard 
to treat the "Food For Scandal" cast and 
crew, Carole proved again that she's Holly- 
wood's most original thinker-upper. Instead 
of the usual case of coca cola or ice-cream 
cones, Carole had one hundred pounds of 
bananas delivered to the set. . . . 

Joe E. Brown had the most unusual acci- 
dent of the month. While driving through 
Malibu, a buck deer ran smack into Joe E.'s 
car, plunging a hoof through the radiator. "I 
must have had my mouth open and the thing 
was trying to hole in," Joe E. explains. . . . 

It was an extra special big day for the Joe E. Browns, for 
their son, Donald, celebrated his twenty-first birthday 

Whoops, we're off to the races. Carole 
Lombard and Clark Gable have taken up 
sulky racing. To see the two tearing through 
the highways and byways in a little sulky 
behind a monstrous horse, is — well, you 
name it. . . . 

After being starred at Columbia for two 
years Richard Dix has been re-signed by 
RKO where he was a star for seven years 
and where he made a notable hit in "Cim- 
arron.". . . 

Walt Disney has entered the educational 
field. He has just completed a child's primer, 
which has been accepted for use by the N. Y. 
public school system. So now Mickey Mouse 
will teach first-grade children their lessons. 
The text book will sell for forty cents. . . . 


I HESE young movie players do get around 
In April Walter Wanger brought ten New 
York artist's models to Hollywood foi 
"Vogues of 1938." Dorothy Day was one o! 
them. Her picture was seen and Miss Day 
was signed by Mervyn LeRoy, Warner pro- 
ducer who changed her name to Vicki Lestei 

(Janet Gaynor's screen name in "A Star is 
Born") . 

After she had appeared in "The Great 
Garrick" and "Food for Scandal," LeRoy 
agreed to release Vicki from her contract so 
she could be assured a featured contract with 
Pan Berman at RKO. RKO thinks Vicki is 
a future Carole Lombard. 


Two of Hollywood's most ardent 
members of the spectator-sports 
circle, Gilbert Roland and Con- 
stance Bennett, follow the race 


I HERE is something about Hollywood stars 
and new houses that goes a point beyond 

Trips to Europe, town cars, leading roles 
and all the trappings usually leave them in 
a more or less normal frame of mind. But 
let stars build a house and then watch the 
reaction! A strange new gleam comes into 
their eyes, a spring creeps into their step, a 
gosh-what-a-swell-world attitude radiates in 
all directions. Even when they declare the 
building is driving them crazy, you know 
they really love every minute of it. 

For instance, there's Ray Milland and the 
new house he's building. Ray was so down- 
right goofy over that house, that on the night 
he came home from a three weeks' location 
trip, he couldn't wait for daylight and in- 
sisted upon a bit of night prowling right then 
and there. 

Armed with a flashlight, Ray and his wife 
were thrilling to the odor of new plaster on 
the top floor when footsteps were suddenly 
heard below. Dousing his light, Ray mo- 
tioned Mrs. Milland to be quiet. Slowly and 
stealthily, the steps came closer and closer 
until a harsh voice close at hand cried, "Put 
'em up, buddy. I've got you." A ray from 
the flashlight caught the reflection from a 
gleaming revolver as Ray demanded to 
know what was going on. Of course, it 
turned out to be a policeman who had seen 
Ray's light in the darkness of the house. 

/\ND then, there's Kay Francis who just 
built her new home out in Gopher Gulch. 
Kay simply haunted the place, urging work- 
men to hurry, and even tugging at a few 
bricks and boards herself. And when it 
came to moving, Kay insisted on doing most 
of that herself, piling her car full of belong- 
ings and following the vans every trip. 

There was a time when Bob Montgomery's 
friends thought of calling the home builder 
to one side and telling him the worst — that, 
frankly, they had stood all the house-build- 
ing stories they could possibly stomach and 
if he didn't soon switch from the wonders 
of bathroom fixtures to the problems of the 
Guild, they might do something drastic. 

But George Raft was the worst. Since he 
had never owned a home of his own, you 
can well imagine his hysteria over his new 
house. The trouble was George interfered 
so much with the carpenter's work by insist- 
ing on everyone's knocking off every hour 
for a coca cola bust, the Union or something 
threatened to picket Raft by wearing huge 
signs reading: 

George Raft is unfair to his own house. 

As we said, we don't know what it is that 
gets them about a new house going up. But 
it certainly gets them. (Cont'd on page 67) 

George Jessel explains the mys- 
teries of pari-mutuel betting to his 
mother and Edward G. Arnold. 
Mrs. Jessel, Sr. is well known to 
radio from her son's broadcasts 



M ] 


\ETRO spent about $2,000,000 on this and it ought 
to be something pretty special. That it turns 
out to be just a good show in fancy dress may be 
the result of too many expectations, or it may be 
that mixing a West Point football story with a 
mythical kingdom romance was not such a great 
idea. It curdles, at times. Still, for your money you 
get the greatest set ever constructed anywhere, a 
generous helping of Nelson Eddy's voice singing 
good Cole Porter tunes, plenty of Eleanor Powell's 
incomparable dancing, lots of Frank Morgan's funny 
hesitating speech, and a lot of other things too 
numerous to list here. Ilona Massey, attractive new- 
comer, sings beautifully. Ray Bolger is Eddy's pal. 
"Rosalie" and "In the Still of the Night" are hum- 
mable tunes. 


/~*RISP, vital Miriam Hopkins gives you what the 
^— papers call another "sterling performance" in 
this picture. She's aided by a fine story, Leigh 
Jason's memorable direction and a cast that seems 
to enjoy what it's doing. Two children, played by 
Marianna Strelby and Betty Philson, are orphaned, 
and struggling artist Ray Milland adopts them. 
Whereupon, their grandfather and a young aunt — 
portrayed electrically by Miss Hopkins — set out to 
get the kids back. It's a hold-your-hats-boys situa- 
tion, ripe with comedy. Milland, always likeable, 
apparently was meant by providence for this role. 
More than ever, Henry Stephenson is substantial 
and distinguished; the children, twelve and ten re- 
spectively, are good actresses. Catch this as soon 
as possible. 

^i * kT"» Sj i ^~ 

A Re vi ew 
of the New Pictures 



* LOVE AND HISSES— 20th Century-Fox 

A GAIN Joan Crawford is magnificently the shop 
' * girl who, by intelligence, beauty and ambition, 
rises from the slums to happiness and wealth. This 
time she gets out of the button factory by marrying 
Alan Curtis, who's new to the screen but not to life, 
apparently; he has definite vitality. When he shows 
himself at last as the rotter he is, Joan goes nobly 
into a gown shop to model clothes by Adrian. At 
last she marries good, kind, rather dull Spencer 
Tracy who grew in the gutter himself and made his 
pile with bare fists. Trouble comes with a strike 
and Curtis' attempt at blackmail — but Joan holds 
up her chin, hitches her girdle, and sails in to prove 
that the good always survive. 

Joan is stunning; Tracy gives staunch support. 

/^""\NE always expects a deft handling of suspense, 
^-^ sane dialogue, and expert delineation of char- 
acter in Director Alfred Hitchcock's pictures, and 
this one is no disappointment. The story plot itself, 
however, unless you believe that faith moves moun- 
tains, is apt to seem built on coincidence, and cer- 
tainly English police methods are too leisurely to an 
American accustomed to hearing our police sirens. 

Nova Pilbeam is the constable's daughter; Der- 
rick De Marney, a young man accused of murder. 
The clue is a belt from his coat found around the 
dead woman's neck. Nova believes in his innocence, 
and attempts to help him escape. 

The entire cast is exceptional. You will like this 
British picture. 


Buccaneer, The 

In Old Chicago 


Girl Was Young, The 

Hollywood Hotel 

You're a Sweetheart 

Love and Hisses 



Wise Girl 

I'll Take Romance 

Bad Man of Brimstone 

ENCOURAGED by the fine success of their first 
"— feudal screen comedy, Walter Winchell and Ben 
Bernie return with even greater gusto to another 
smart battle of wits and half-wits and music and 
gags. The result is outstanding and, incidentally, 
surprising; for, displaying a birdlike singing voice 
and an entirely new personality, Simone Simon 
shoplifts top honors while Ben and Walter are 
fighting it out in the background. 

Bernie asks Winchell to give a boost to Simone, 
a foreign singing star. Winchell claims she is a 
fraud in his radio and newspaper chatter, so Bernie 
engages Georges Renavent to dream up a dramatic 
story in which Simone is his daughter who deserts 
society for show business. Winchell falls for it. 
When he finds that he has raved about Bernie's 
protegee he arranges a typically theatrical coup 
and fixes everything, including Simone's romance 
with Dick Baldwin. Much hilarity goes on as the 
story is unfolded, the new Gordon-Revel tunes are 
a delight and the picture doesn't run one single foot 
longer than minimum requirements. Director Sid- 
ney Lanfield's cutting is the plot's salvation. 
• Those who were roundly cussing and discussing 
Simone are now shouting her praises; the diminu- 
tive French actress finished under the wire as just 
about the biggest surprise of the year with her ex- 
ceptional singing voice. Smart showmanship, clever 
production, and the unfailing Zanuck formula con- 
tribute to make this exceptional entertainment. 




Franciska Gaal in "The Buccaneer" 

Hugh Sothern in "The Buccaneer" 

Alice Brady in "In Old Chicago" 
Tyrone Power in "In Old Chicago" 

Simone Simon in "Love and Hisses" 

Myrna Loy in "Man-Proof" 
Rosalind Russell in "Man-Proof" 

Joan Crawford in "Mannequin" 
Spencer Tracy in "Mannequin" 

Miriam Hopkins in "Wise Girl" 
Ray Milland in "Wise Girl" 

• IN OLD CHICAGO— 20th Century-Fox 

<RS. O'LEARY'S temperamental cow, immortal- 
' ized since the great Chicago fire of 1871, is 
d's gift to Darryl Zanuck, for the producer, in 
ng the famous lantern-kicking legend, has 
neved a vivid picture of that city's early days. 
"Jot only the cow, but the whole O'Leary tribe is 
en fictional prominence in this absorbing screen 
itory. Widow Molly O'Leary (Alice Brady), ar- 
ing in bustling young Chicago with her three 
is, makes a living as a washerwoman, while her 
Qdren, inheriting fighting Irish qualities, soon 
"ve their names on the city records. The eldest 
1, Jack (Don Ameche) , eventually becomes 
lyor, backed by his brother Dion (Tyrone Power), 
horoughly unscrupulous politician. Their careers 
ng them in contact with many colorful char- 
ers of that lusty period, among them dance-hall 
1 Belle Fawcett (Alice Faye) ; and also bring 
• brothers into violent conflict with each other. 
st as their disagreements reach a climax, the 
;'s catastrophe takes place. 

Uice Brady gives a magnificent portrayal of a 
Uve strong-minded woman; next in line for acting 
!iors is Tyrone Power. The picture has power in 
i strength of its many character portrayals set 
jiinst the sweep of a larger scene. But the spec- 
ie of the fire, terrifying as it is, falls a bit short 
[the stupendous effects expected. Director Henry 
jig and the large cast have acquitted themselves 
nirably in this not-to-be-missed film. 


THIS is a potpourri of music and buffoonery put 
' over with abundant but not too brilliant enthu- 
siasm by Dick Powell, the Lane sisters — Rosemary 
and Lola — Louella Parsons with her radio clan, in- 
cluding Frances Langford, and a large cast. 

In the course of the one-syllable plot of small- 
town youth making good in Hollywood, Dick Powell 
performs in his popular shy-boy manner. He also 
sings some tuneful airs to pretty Rosemary who, as 
Cinderella girl doubling for glamour queen Lola, 
warbles engagingly back at him. 

Louella Parsons offers a natural bit of acting in 
her movie debut, but Lola over-farces the pam- 
pered star role. Happiest contributions are Benny 
Goodman and his swing band, and Raymond Paige's 
arrangement of "Black Eyes." It's all noisy fun. 



SLOW-MOVING story of romance on the run. 

Henry Hunter, embezzler, deserts his sweet- 
heart, Dorothea Kent, and flees to Wendy Barrie, a 
young doctor in Budapest. Believing him innocent, 
Wendy shields Hunter from detective Robert Kent, 
with the help of Mischa Auer. Things happen when 
Miss Kent appears on the scene. But guess who 
falls in love with whom? You're right. 


ANNA MAY WONG enlists in the U. S. govern- 
ment's campaign to capture leaders in a smug- 
gling ring along the Pacific Coast and contributes 
considerably to an otherwise tame picture. Miss 
Wong deserves better than this picture offers. Snarl- 
ing Charlie Bickford, J. Carrol Naish and barrel- 
chested Larry (Buster) Crabbe have outstanding 
supporting roles. Just another movie. 


IT isn't so much that Myrna Loy is just never cast 
in a bad picture; the point is she makes any cinema 
that stars her a fine piece of entertainment. With- 
out her efforts this would be a long, utterly dull 
conversation piece. The story premise is very sim- 
ple: Myrna, a young, emotionally unevolved girl, is 
in iove with man-about-town Walter Pidgeon. Rich 
Rosalind Russell steals and marries him. Myrna 
sets frankly out to get him back — with astonishing 
results; Franchot Tone lurks here and there, waiting 
cagily. With Miss Loy's superb interpretation of 
character, the film becomes a good psychological 
study interspersed with high comedy that nudges, 
rather than smacks, your humor sense. One scene 
in which Myrna gets tight on champagne is, or will 
be, picture history. 


THEY'LL all be holidays for Mae pretty soon, if this 
little number is any indication. Since film sex 
has gone subtle she's left with little to do except 
walk, which isn't enough. Paramount produced this 
lavishly, but the story of a female crook who dabbles 
in turn-of-the-century politics drags like the West 
inflection. Edmund Lowe and Lloyd Nolan, with 
Charlie Winninger, try hard to entertain. 

CHECKERS— 20th Century-Fox 

JANE WITHERS clicks again in this story of a 
^ race horse that endangers the romance of Stuart 
Erwin and Una Merkel. Together Jane and Erwin 
own the horse and, while the two are traveling from 
track to track, Una responds to the wooing of An- 
drew Tombes. To top it off, the horse breaks a leg 
and Stuart has miseries until Miss Fix-it Withers 
steps in. (Continued on page 95) 



— and find that scene stealing, cob- 

web making and toiling stars are all 

a part of a Hollywood working day 


IN "Naughty Marietta," Nelson Eddy made 
his first appearance singing at the head of 
a company of Louisiana foot soldiers, slog- 
ging through a swamp. It was an effective 
"entrance." So effective that M-G-M re- 
peated it in "Rose Marie." Only this time 
Nelson was riding — at the head of a platoon 
of Northwest Mounted Police. That was 
even more effective. 

Now, for the third time — in "Girl of the 
Golden West" (in which he again costars 

with Jeanette MacDonald) — he enters at the 
forefront of a horde of he-men, all singing. 
Out on the vast back lot at M-G-M, he is rid- 
ing a horse down "a mountain road." On 
his left is Leo Carrillo; on his right, Leonard 
Penn. Behind them string a band of ban- 
dits, all on horseback. Nelson, tricked out 
for the occasion in sombrero and chaps, is 
the bandit Ramirez. 

The camera, mounted on a truck, and cen- 
tered on Nelson, precedes the bandits down 
the road. But it also catches Carrillo, whose 
singing is done with that happy-go-lucky, at- 
tention-attracting, scene-stealing Carrillo 
smile. That is all right with Director Rob- 
ert Z. ("Pop") Leonard. The nearness of 
Carrillo makes Nelson "give" all the more. 

However, something unscheduled happens 
on the first "take." (Something visually 
does.) Carrillo's mount, despite Leo's fran- 
tic efforts to keep him under control, starts 
rearing, cavorting and prancing. This will 
never do. Director Leonard calls for a re- 

"A fine thing!" says Nelson, feigning out- 
raged innocence. "I give my all, and what 
happens? Carrillo's even got his horse 
trained to steal scenes!" 

"Their Majesties," Myrna Loy and Clark Gable, get plenty of razz- 
ing from another star and champ scene-stealer in "Test Pilot" 

Leo is embarrassed by the left-hanc 
compliment. This is a trait common to m 
scene-stealers. Consider Spencer Tracy, 

Tracy is playing an airplane mechanic 
"Test Pilot." Clark Gable has the title n 
with Myrna Loy as his wife. The se 
Clark Gable and Myrna Loy who were vo 
King and Queen of the movies in a rec 
newspaper poll. 

Spencer has no reverence for their i 
regal stature. He harries them. He h 
tiously hails each of them as "Your Majes 
But, on the other hand, he has no revere 
for Spencer Tracy. 

He does a praiseworthy scene with CI 
and Director Victor Fleming praises thi 
"Yeah," says Spencer, "Power and Ta. : 
couldn't have done better." Or he do<; 
notable bit of solo acting, and Fleming k 
so. Spencer says, "It smelled like ham 
me." Some of his own comments on s<| 
of his best performances are unprintable 

We see him steal a scene as he prob 
never did before. By accident. 

The set is the small kitchen of the cl : 
apartment that Clark and Myrna, ru 
married, have just rented. Spencer, as 
interested bachelor-buddy, is inspecting if 
place. He opens this cupboard, takes a Ik 
slams it shut, opens another. 

In the middle of the "take," unwaryii 
slams a door on one of his own fingers, it 
does what any man would do under thejfc 
cumstances. He yowls in pained surpe 

ft*** k? b 

^W^/W'- ^ 

°* for ^ L SS e V W U L 
y ' n 9 e « "»- 

Co *>e</ v 


Reteamed with Nelson Eddy, Jeane+te MacDonald is 
"The Girl of the Golden West" in David Belasco's epic 

;e remembers only in the nick of time that 
lady is present. With an effort, he keeps 
s thoughts mute. 

Fleming wants no retake. He likes the un- 
heduled realism. So. will you. 

EAR by, another big M-G-M picture is 

arting. This is "Madelon," a tale of life and 

ve along the water front of Marseilles. The 

le role was intended originally for Luise 

liner, but Luise is now seriously ill. In the 

le, instead, is Maureen O'Sullivan — just 

ck from England where she played with 

)bert Taylor in "A Yank at Oxford." 

Maureen is bright-eyed about her break. 

it she isn't exactly unhappy to have it hap- 

n in Hollywood. She tells us why: "Over 

sre, making a picture, you're pretty much 

your own. You have to do most of your 

v>rrying, yourself. Here, you have at least 

1 1 people to help you worry. That's Holly- 

viod. And I like it." 

'■We see a scene about which everyone wor- 
rs in advance. Maureen's sweetheart, 
J Ties Stewart, is about to sail away on a 
s p that will be gone three years. She is to 
flnt on the pier. His father, Wallace Beery, 
ia ;o pick her up and carry her to a house a 

hundred and fifty feet away. 

Is Wally equal to the assignment? Has the 
gunshot wound in his leg, received during 
his last picture, healed sufficiently? He 
says it has. 

The scene begins. Maureen faints. Wally 
picks her up, starts toward the house. He 
shows not a sign of a limp. Everybody re- 
laxes — except Wally. He has to carry Mau- 
reen up the street again, for a retake. Be- 
fore the scene is finally on film, he has car- 
ried her three times. 

"If I'd known they would do the scene that 
many times, I'd have asked 'em to get me a 
wheelbarrow," he grumps. Not that Wally 
is intimating that the scene has cost him 
painful effort. Far from it. All that he is 
intimating is that he hates to have to work. 

OVER at 20th Century-Fox, on the set of 
"Sally, Irene and Mary," is another star who 
perpetually tries to persuade the world that 
he has an antipathy for work. His name is 
Fred Allen. 

In this backstage musical comedy, he tops 
a cast that includes Alice Faye, Tony Martin, 
Joan Davis, Marjorie Weaver and Jimmy 
Durante. Allen appears in practically every 

scene. And between scenes he groans con- 
stantly about his fifty-eight pages of dialogue. 

"Do you know how tired I am?" he de- 
mands. "I feel like a nerve that's fallen out 
of a tooth and is just walking around. I 
came out here to lose weight. And, so far, 
I've gained five and a half pounds. I tell you, 
there's no justice." 

In the script, Alice Faye inherits a boat. 
Everybody troops down to the water front to 
see if it won't do for a showboat. It even- 
tually will, but when they first glimpse the 
ship, it is a tired wreck, filled with cobwebs. 

Action on the set is now at a standstill, 
while a "special effects" expert artfully 
sprays cobwebs over the scenery. Allen, 
lazily watching him, says, "There is the 
meanest man in Hollywood. He even keeps 
the spiders out of work. He can turn out 
more cobwebs in an hour than eight thou- 
sand spiders could in a year." 

Allen still is shaking his head about this 
incredible business of movie-making as we 
move on, to the set of "The Baroness and the 

I HIS is the picture that brings Annabella, 
the French star, to the American screen. 
Opposite her is William Powell. She asked 
for him as her costar after meeting" him in 
Paris on his recent trip abroad. It was care- 
fully explained to her that he was under con- 
tract to another studio. She still couldn't 
see why the costardom couldn't be arranged. 
It was arranged. Annabella is that persua- 
sive, even in person. (P. S. She is blonde 
with lively brown eyes.) 

Powell looks rested after his long vacation 
trip. But you can't be around him without 
sensing that he still is low-spirited. He says, 
"From now on, I'm going to do only two pic- 
tures a year. That's enough, if the two are 
good. If I rush through five a year, only one 
of the five may be good. This way, people 
can expect more by seeing me less. Also, 
there is such a thing as trying to do too much. 
I've seen it happen: people overworking, 
wrecking their health, even dying." . 

Though he still may be playing comedy, he 
is not forgetting Jean Harlow. 

Again, as in "My Man Godfrey," he is a 
butler. The setting, however, is Budapest — 
where the People's Party elects him to the 
same Parliament in which his baron-em- 
ployer (Henry Stephenson) serves. We see 
the scene in which the baron, who doesn't 
know how to lace his own shoes, begs Bill to 
reconsider, while the baron's daughter (An- 
nabella) upbraids Bill for being a "traitor." 
Bill blithely replies that he expects life to go 
on as before, when the parliament isn't in 

Before the scene begins, Bill, standing 
close to Stephenson, absent-mindedly plucks 
lint off Stephenson's coat. He is so used to 
being a butler now that he even buttles be- 
tween scenes. 

Next, at Warners, we see Carole Lombard, 
the ex-Mrs. Powell, making a comedy about 
a butler and a queen — a movie queen. It's 
tentatively titled "Food for Scandal." Fer- 
nand Gravet is the butler. 

They are doing one of those scenes that 
everyone present, including the players, en- 
joys. Carole, living up to the popular idea 
of feminine glamour in a decollete gown, is 
having a tete-a-tete dinner with Ralph Bel- 
lamy in a cosy alcove of her luxurious apart- 
ment. Gravet, togged out in a wig and a 


"My Man Godfrey" is back again buttling in the inimitable 
Powell fashion in "The Baroness and the Butler." But Bill 
ultimatum that won't please his legion of fans 

issues an 

gold-braided uniform, knee-length, that 
makes him look like one of the King's foot- 
men, is serving the meal, assisted by Marie 
Wilson and Allen Jenkins. 

Bellamy has romance on his mind. But 
every time he attempts to get it off, he says 
no more than two or three words when one 
of the trio of servants enters, interrupting 
his thoughts. First one, then another ap- 
pears, until his frustration mounts to the ex- 
plosion point. 

The tough thing about doing comedy is, 
according to Carole: "selling yourself on the 
idea that what, you're doing is funny. Usu- 
ally, that's no cinch. The only time it comes 
easy is when you're doing a scene that would 
be funny, no matter who played it." 

W E look in on Stage 22, to see what Bette 
Davis is doing, in the curls and crinolines of 
nearly a century ago, in "Jezebel." Bette, it 
seems, is coming up to a death scene. 

She and Director William Wyler are hav- 
ing an argument. A friendly verbal bout but 
— still a bout. Willie isn't satisfied with 
Bette's make-up for the scene. She "isn't 
pale enough"; she "doesn't look tired 
enough." Bette is arguing that she has done 
death scenes before, has always worn this 
kind of make-up, and has "always looked 

Neither can convince the other. Finally, 
Bette says, "Willie, don't tell me you won't 
listen to reason! Don't tell me I'll have to go 
temperamental on you!" She flounces off to 
her portable dressing room, as if she's going 
temperamental here and now. 

Wyler, with a gleam in his eye, stalks after 
her. He takes off her door the white board 
with the name "Bette Davis," turns it over, 
prints something on it, then hangs it back up. 
The sign now reads: "Simone Simon." 

Bette flings open the door to see what he 
is doing, and unwillingly laughs. But she 

isn't changing her make-up until make-up 
expert Perc Westmore (already sent for) 
arrives, to referee the argument. 

They still are waiting for Westmore, and 
the business manager is shredding his hair 
over the production delay, as we head for 
the Warner back lot and the set of "The 
Adventures of Robin Hood." Here, another 
business manager is rendering himself bald 
over production delay. The picture is in 
Technicolor and, because of lighting prob- 
lems, they can work only five hours a day. 
And today there are nine hundred people on 
the set, and it takes an hour to line them up 
for one "take." 

This is a vast set — a market square in 
Twelfth Century England. In the center of 
the square towers a primitive gallows. All 
about the square are extras in tatters, rep- 

resenting the angry populace, being held in 
check by other extras in the chain-mail uni- 
forms of medieval soldiers. At one side 
stands a silken pavilion, housing nobles who 
have come to watch the sport of seeing Robin 
Hood hanged — Robin Hood being played by 
Errol Flynn, who has Olivia de Havilland for 
his Maid Marian. 

Two cameras are filming the scene, from 
different angles. Sun reflectors have to be 
set for each of them. Then, because of the 
size of the set, Director Michael Curtiz has 
to do his directing via a loud-speaker. Be- 
tween his accent and the echoing acoustics 
the extras have their troubles, finding out 
what they are supposed to do, and when, and 

The extras, after standing around and be- 
ing pushed around for an hour, aren't up tc 
being excited when Robin Hood is finally 
trundled into the square in a two-wheelec 
cart. Curtiz calls for a retake, meanwhilt 
delegating an assistant director to bawl then- 
out in plain English. The second take i< 
better. The third is perfect. But by tha 
time the business manager, incredulouslj 
feeling the top of his head, fails to find i 
single hair to tear. 

URIVING on to Columbia, we find Franci: 
Lederer, back from his honeymoon, involved 
in a melodramatic fantasy titled "The Lomi; 
Wolf." It's about a jewel thief, a good fellov| 
withal, who comes to the aid of a desperatJ 
princess (Frances Drake) . His bride, Marge 
was originally penciled in for a role in thi 
picture, but is not present. The reason i 
amusing, if unromantic. She is wearin; 
braces on her teeth, which she doesn't wan 
to remove till April. 

We find Frances Drake making sonn 
"transition" scenes with some minor players 
getting in and out of a hotel elevator. Led 
erer is sitting on the side lines, gingerl; 
smoking a cigarette. It seems that the scrip 
calls for him to smoke throughout the pic! 
ture. Being a non-smoker in real life, this : 
a real chore for him. He reeled in a scene thi 
morning. So now, between scenes, he's build 
ing up his resistance. 

A girl near us comments on France 

Drake's "beautiful figure," very noticeabl 

in a low-cut satin evening gown. Lederei 

(Continued on page 81 

A Y 


Katharine Hepburn wears this colorful Howard 
Greer ensemble in "Bringing Up Baby." The black 
frock, striped in red and white, has long, tight 
sleeves and a tiny upstanding collar. The beige 
double-breasted Cabby coat has a straight front, a 
flaring back, huge buttons and exaggerated revers 


. V ■ 
■ ■ ■ ■■ 

■mm: :: :: 




Silver-bullion embroidery, studded with tiny 
cut steel beads, lends a glittering note to 
the sheer black woolen dressmaker suit 
Adrian designed for Joan Crawford to wear 
in "Mannequin." Draped sleeves and a 
snugly fitted waist are new features of the 
short jacket which reveals a velvet vest. 
The skirt is pencil-slim, short and has side 
slits. Adrian repeats the suit fabric and 
embroidery motif in the envelope bag and, 
as final accent to the costume, adds a large, 
shallow-crowned hat of untrimmed felt 

o trims this black jersey 
hich Rosemary Lane, 
pearing in Warners' 
>od Hotel," wears so 
|ly. A wide belt joins 
nered skirt to a tail- 
use. A concealed front 
:losing, double breast 
and a tiny back collar 
iguing details. Rose- 
jrban is draped of the 
brie. Note the inter- 
ut of her suede shoes 

'■-. 4 

olograph by Elmer Fryer 

White stripes the fabric of the topcoat 
and jacket of Dolores Del Rio's three- 
piece woolen suit designed by Irene of 
Bullock's Wilshire. The full-length top- 
coat is single-breasted with triple but- 
ton closing to match the styling of 
the jacket. The skirt has two front 
gores that release fluid fulness. Irene, 
the designer, stressed the coloring 
of the fabric stripe in neck scarf and 
gloves. Dolores is appearing in 20th 
Century - Fox's "Shanghai Deadline" 

Photograph by Frank Powolny 

Una Merkel, M-G-M player, adds zest to 
her spring wardrobe with this two-piece 
frock of brown, tan and burnt-orange plaid. 
The jacket, collarless, with button closing, 
patch pockets and studded belt, shares de- 
tail interest with a skirt which achieves dis- 
tinction by means of minute godets. A 
pheasant quill pierces Una's brown felt hat 


'i ^faMbs 

Marjorie Weaver, appearing in "Sally, Irene and 
Mary" with Alice Faye, suggests light felt hats to 
give new life and verve to dark street or sport 
costumes. Navy suede bows and matching suede 
band add chic to her Byron sport hat "Allure," 
(above). Note that this felt flaunts a cleverly 
rolled back brim and an effectively draped crown 

A casual grosgrain ribbon bow is perched right at 
the front of this smart felt model, aptly called 
"Town Talk" (upper left). It's one of those youthful, 
gay off-the-face models created by Byron. Worn 
decidedly back on the head in the season's newest 
manner, here is a hat to top off tailored or casual 
costumes of the North or South. Marjorie Weaver 
of Hollywood gives you a preview of this model 

A gay red bug (center) coquettishly perches on the 
edge of the grosgrain ribbon trim of "Town Chat- 
ter," a Roxford model. Here is a felt with the spirit 
of 1938 caught in its soft-rolling off-the-face brim 
and cleverly molded crown. Marjorie gives you an 
idea of the charming possibilities of this charming 
hat. Smart enough to cause "Town Chatter" indeed 

Look to the lower left for Roxford's "Caprice," a 
smart whim of fashion in felt. That rolled back 
brim has infinite flattering possibilities — the crown 
is one of the new crushed-top types that gives a 
smart high-low effect. Suede in contrasting color 
forms a tailored trim — the final accent is a 
gleaming metal buckle. Marjorie Weaver shows 
you what a wise choice for spring this model is 

1 */(/ule6 

($M l 





Dark dresses with touches of white 
are indispensable in a spring ward- 
robe. Phyllis Brooks, appearing in 20th 
Century-Fox's "City Girl," wears a 
black crepe frock (above), tailored for 
town wear, with a bias skirt and fitted 
blouse, a stand-up collar and cuffs 
of embroidered crisp white pique 

The bolero frock is still the chic cos- 
tume for afternoon wear and this one 
of black crepe (above center) is con- 
trasted by a striped blouse in shades 
of deep rose and dusty pink. Phyllis 
is holding the smartly cut jacket 

Another dark dress which Phyllis wears 
with touches of white (directly above) 
is also for dressy occasions. Styled 
with hip. yoke and circular skirt, it is 
of navy sheer with cuffs and yoke of 
lace and embroidered batiste. The 
smart new sailor hat, white gloves and 
blue bag provide the proper dash 

Phyllis' sport frock (right) Is of light- 
weight beige woolen printed with a 
brown geometric motif. The high- 
necked, short-sleeved blouse is joined 
to the skirt of sunburst pleating with 
a belt of the softest brown calfskin 


The smart advance PHOTOPLAY 
Hollywood Fashions shown on these 
two pages are available to you at 
any of the department stores 
and shops listed on page 96 

Atop her suit skirt of deep || 
green, Eleanor Powell alterrvs 
matching tailored jacket wi 
gay Tyrolean sweater coat. r-iHi 
in a design of red, yellowjol 
and green on a white backg 
its ascot ties snugly at the 
Her green brushed velour 
banded with a silk cord o 
trasting color. Costarring 
Nelson Eddy, Eleanor is a\ 
ing in M-G-M's musical "Re 

or repose this ensemble 
woolen, worn by Anita 
aims top fashion honors, 
frock has crescent breast 
hat close with brown but- 
natch those that line the 
ening. The topcoat of 
b yarn plaid has a tuxedo 
lynx. Anita's "beanie," 
d shoes are beige and her 
dskin handbag comple- 
s narrow belt of her frock. 
i" is Anita's latest film 

Look what the "Snow White" dwarfs 
have done to milady's headgear 

Adaptations of the caps worn 
by the dwarfs: "Doc," modeled 
by Ann Miller, is of pale blue 
antelope and styled with rolled 
brim and flat, peaked crown 

Here's "Sneezy," a black antelope 
chosen by Lucille Ball. In the hand 
it's perfectly flat; when worn, it 
fits snugly around the head with 
a slight double peak in the crown 

"Happy, "worn by Anne Shir- 
ley, is of larkspur blue felt. 
The cocky brim is pleated in 
the front, and the gnome- 
like crown is extended to form 
— of all things — a chin strap 

"Dopey," another of Ann's 
selections, is made of violet felt 
(the same gay shade of an 
Easter egg) and is typically 
fairy-tale with its amusing 
crumpled crown and rolled brim 

Photographs By Ernest Bachrach 

There are several ways 
wear "Sneezy." Here Luc 
has knotted the tails in ba 
Above left, she pulled the 
over her shoulders. But sonr; 
times she knots them on ti 

Cal York's Gossip 

, (Continued from page 51) 

AT young fourteen-year-old 
of Bill Powell's is plenty 
art. The other night, Bill in- 
;d the boy out to dinner in 
|le, told him to pick his restau- 
nt — anyone in town. Powell, 
lior immediately selected the 

}$ut, in the car, driving to the fa- 

js night spot, the lad suddenly 

nged his mind. You see, the 

knew that at such a popular 

:e his dad would be meeting so 

ly of his friends that he would 

e little chance to talk to him. 

/as an important evening, too, 

landing much talk, Junior fig- 

■jd. He has just been made edi- 

iof his exclusive military school 

isr, and he had a small matter 

printing-press gift to pry out 

Dad." So the boy settled on a 

ill, inexpensive restaurant off 

i beaten path where Bill could 

i t none of his friends. 


IS'S carrying the weight of the 
ire Hollywood studio on her 
) tig shoulders, still she can't get 
it oig-head. That's Deanna Dur- 
jt for you. The other night, after 
eking late at the studio, she 
ned a Los Angeles playhouse 
i ee if she could get tickets to 
•t a legitimate show. Only if she 
c Id pick up the tickets ten min- 

Fashion hint to farmers 
presented by Betty and 
Jackie Coogan at the Big 
Apple party at the Troc 

June Lang, whose divorce from Vic Orsatti becomes 
the summer, bestows her smiles these days on A. C. Blu 

utes before curtain time, the voice on the 
other end of the line informed her. 

"But why didn't you tell them who you 
were?" a friend asked her, when she hung 
up the receiver dejectedly. "They would 
have held them for you." 

Deanna frowned. "Oh, yeah? They would 
probablv have said, 'and who does she think 
she is?'" 


IT will be a long time before Joan Blondell 
forgets that trip she and Dick Powell took 
to the Cleveland auto show. Dick, when he 
was there, secretly bought their little three- 
year-old son a miniature auto, equipped with 
a one-cylinder motor. It was delivered the 
other day. Of course, Dick expected the lit- 
tle one to hop right in and drive off. But, 
despite the lad's enthusiasm for doing just 
that, Mamma Blondell thinks it's far too dan- 
gerous a toy for a baby of such tender years. 

final in 

John Boles, Bob Mont- 
gomery, those party-giving 
Frank Chapmans, and Ernst 
Lubitsch do some vocalising 

Pere Dick is getting plenty 
of fun out of it, however, 
which might have been his 
idea, anyway. 


Shirley Temple: the little 
girl with the golden curls 
is slowly, but definitely, 
turning into a brunette. 
Shirley's hair is taking on 
a much deeper shade of 
brown — and so it will re- 
main. Mrs. Temple, who 
has never permitted any 
kind of dye to be used on 
Shirley's hair, feels that 
the child's fans would 
much rather see her with 
out-and-out brown hair 
than to know she was having it dyed simply 
for pictures. 

Clark Gable: having the time of his life 
working in "Test Pilot," and flying with 
Spencer Tracy, even if the studio did have to 
take out additional insurance on the picture 
because of it. Clark, who had the chicken 
pox when he was a kid, had lots of fun scar- 
ing g.f. Carole Lombard when she was ex- 
posed to it by a publicity man. Told her it 
was a lot worse than most adults supposed. 
Robert Taylor: unlike most Hollywood ac- 
tors who go to London for pictures, Bob 
brought back no English-made suits with him 
— just a topcoat. 

Bing Crosby: Bing's the busiest man in town 
these days. Spending as much time as he 
can at Santa Anita track, to watch over his 
string of racing runners who, this year, are 
really earning prize money for him. With 
his radio work, pictures, and that new heir 
in the Crosby household, Bing more than 
has his hands full. (Continued on page 70) 



These hands show an exceptionally well-balanced person. Why? 
Because the three parts of the fingers are in even proportion 


PLEASE turn your hands over and let's 
study your fingers from the inside. To 
make it easier, divide your fingers into 
three parts: the upper part, or the part with 
nail on the back, indicates your mental abil- 
ity; the middle portion shows your business 
or money-making ability; the lower denotes 
your physical propensities, your fondness for 
food, drink, pleasure and luxury. 

Note the lines running across your fingers 
and whether all three parts of each finger 
are of about the same length. If they are, 
you are exceptionally well balanced. You 
should be wise, practical, intelligent and pru- 
dent, and you stand an excellent chance of 
succeeding in whatever you undertake. 

If your fingers are not well balanced in 
their division, compare the three parts and 
see which one predominates. The predom- 
inating one rules you. If it is the upper, you 
are intellectual, interested in the things of 
the mind. If the middle rules, business and 
acquisition of money concern you chiefly; 
and if the lower part is very thick, you are 
a physical person, and care mostly for the 
sensual pleasures of life. Note the even pro- 
portion of these three sections on the hands 
of Deanna Durbin. Deanna is exceptionally 
well balanced. 

If the lower section of your finger rules 
and your palm is red, you will be completely 
dominated by your physical desires and 
appetites. If the upper part rules and your 
hand is dead white, you will be so intel- 
lectual that you will not trouble to eat 
enough or take the proper exercise, the 
result being that you will not have enough 
vitality to accomplish very much. 

I HE thumb also should be divided into three 
parts: the upper, which denotes will power 
and determination; the middle portion, indi- 
cating logic and reason; the lower Mount of 

Venus, the fleshy part between the thumb 
and wrist denoting love, sympathy, passion 
and grace. 

The upper part of your thumb should be 
a little shorter than the middle part, other- 
wise you are domineering, stubborn and 
unreasonable. However, if the upper part is 
very much shorter than the middle section, 
you are inclined to be vacillating, weak- 
willed and, while you always know the right 
thing to do, you seldom have sufficient will 
power to make yourself do it. 

Large thumbs stand for strength of char- 
acter, force, practicality, generosity, deter- 
mination in the face of all obstacles, and 
independence in thought and action. Notice 
Clark Gable's thumbs the next time you see 
him in the movies. Or study the picture of 
his hands on the next page. Much strength of 
character and determination are disclosed 
by those thumbs of his. Other points of 
interest shown by the famous Gable hands 
are listed below. Read all the points care- 
fully; then check your own hands against the 
characteristics of his and make your own 
deductions. It will prove an interesting and 
informative game. 

FLEXIBLE HANDS:— this shows that Mr. Gable 
likes most people; but, whether he likes them 
or not, he can adapt himself to them. 

FINGERS: — spatulate, showing his love for out- 
doors and country life, sports of all kinds 
and fondness for animals. He is original and 
demands originality in others. Even though 
he is somewhat conventional in his own 
ideas, people who are narrow-minded and 
stuffy bore and irritate him. 

THUMB: — shows stubbornness and determina- 
tion in the upper part; in the second part, 
logic. This means that Clark may be coaxed; 


You'll know yourself, your friends 

and family better if you read this 

unusual series on hand analysis 

but don't ever try to force him to do any- 
thing. His motto is live and let live, and the 
person who wants his companionship had 
better abide by this. He can see both sides 
of any question and he makes every effort 
to be fair in his judgment and in his dealings 
with others. 

HEART LINE: — if you will use your magnify- 
ing glass, you will discover chains and ir- 
regularities in Clark's heart line. This means 
he is attracted to many. However, the lines 
of affection on the outer side of his hands 
tell that he gives his love and affection to few. 

HEAD LINE: — there is much more slope to the 
head line in Clark Gable's left hand than in 
his right. This tells you that Clark is much 
more practical now than when he was 
younger; that he is less possessive and also 
that he no longer allows his imagination to 
run away with him. 

WIDE PALM: — this increases his restlessness, 
love of adventure and travel. He would 
have made a splendid officer either in the 
army or navy, and he also could have been 
a great explorer, had he chosen to follow 
that line of work. 

(_JN a woman, a large thumb tells you that 
she will marry only the man who can sup- 
port her. She is practical in the extreme. No 
gigolo need waste his time knocking on her 
door, for she will have none of him. 

Small thumbs are romantic. Their own- 
ers see and desire sentiment and beauty in 
all things. The woman with a small thumb 
marries for love. Can her husband or lover 
support her? What cares she, so long as she 
has love. In fact, supporting him would be 
the least of her worries, just so long as he 
remembers the small services of love so dear 
to the heart of the romantic. 

In judging the size and quality of a thumb, 
be sure to notice how it is set onto the side 
of the hand. The nearer the thumb is to the 
wrist the lower it is set. 

Low-set thumbs indicate generosity, free- 
dom in speech and action, and determination. 

Medium-set thumbs denote well-balanced 
views, even temper, fairness and logic in all 
things (if the logic is not overbalanced by 
a too-heavy upper part) . 

High-set thumbs are not very adaptable, 

and the higher the setting the lower will be 

(Continued on page 89) 




ane's palms are an excel- 
snt example of the fine- 
ned network that occurs 
i some palms. Jane is so 
npressionable that she 
orders upon the psychic 



The Gable thumbs are the keynote of the 
star's make-up. They show much strength of 
character and determination. Surprisingly 
enough, his spatulate fingers show that he 
is somewhat conventional in all his ideas 





These are the hands of a person who has won 
her way through her own efforts and abilities. 
Her conic fingertips show you that she is of 
a romantic make-up, has the power of quick per- 
ception, as well as the gift of intuition 




Mrs. Sam Goldwyn, Bill Haines and Kay Francis go into a huddle 
— but they aren't discussing pictures. Kay's getting some free 
advice on decorating that new house of hers (see page 51) 

Cal York's Gossip of Hollywood 

(Continued jrorn page 67) 

William Powell: Bill is feeling his old 
self again. On loan out to 20th 'Century- 
Fox for the lead opposite Annabella in 
"The Baroness and the Butler," he has 
all of his new friends on the lot raving 
about his friendliness and grand sense 
of humor. 

Jane Withers: they are calling little 
Jane "Hollywood's gift to B pictures," 
since her award as sixth in the' 1 "Big 
Ten Box-office Champions of 1937." It's 
the first time a movie star, making 
strictly B pictures, eyer made the "First 
Ten." She leaves in late February on 
another tour of personal appearances, 
and will visit in her old home town, 
Atlanta, Georgia. 

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers: will 

be hard at work again in "Carefree," 
their reunion picture, by the time you 
read this. 

Sonja Henie: getting in the "First 
Ten" was a real thrill to the unspoiled 
little Norwegian skating star, since it 
made her the first player to ever achieve 
this distinction with only a year's work 
on the screen to her credit. Following 
her tour of principal cities with her 
Hollywood skating troupe, she will im- 
mediately start another picture, since 
her new contract at 20th Century-Fox 
calls for three pictures to be completed 
during this year. 

Gary Cooper: the same shy, "there's 
nothing new about me" guy. Home and 
the new baby are more attractive to him 
now than ever before. 

Myrna Loy: after holding out for con- 
siderable time, Myrna this month signed 
her new contract with Metro, calling for 
a terrific raise in salary. Besides having 
a picnic working in "Test Pilot" with 
Gable and Tracy, Myrna has her hands 
full thinking up gags to top those of 
William Powell. 

Studio Nurse 


HEN we heard, last week, that a 
woman named Peggy Coleman was re- 
tiring, we drove hurriedly over to her 
house to talk with her for a little while. 
She has always been, to us, an intensely 
important person. Head studio nurse 
out at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer for thir- 
teen years, we felt that perhaps now, in 
retrospect, she might have some fasci- 
nating things to tell us. You see, during 
her long service every important star at 
that studio has, at some time or other, 
come to her for comfort, and, while be- 
ing bandaged or painted with iodine, 
has poured out his troubles to her. 

Aside from her ministrations to ailing 
stars, Miss Colman has been a wonder- 

ful help to the studio. She was consult- 
ing authority on studio hospital scenes 
and it was she who taught Clark Gable 
to die convincingly in "Parnell." Clark's 
her special pet, she admits without coy- 
ness, which makes her one of legion at 
least; and proves something for Clark. 
No man is a hero to the woman who 
swabs his throat during a flu epidemic. 

She really does have some fine stories 
to tell, this brisk person with the nice 
smile and the amused eyes. If you ask 
her, she'll describe Frank Morgan's re- 
actions on that day when he woke, des- 
perately ill, to hear Peggy calling an 
undertaker. That was because the 
studio ambulances are handled through 
a Culver City funeral parlor — a fact 
Frank didn't know. 

For turnabout value: Peggy was ill 
herself, once. She lay on a cot waiting 
to be taken away for an appendectomy, 
opened her eyes because of a noise in 
the room, and saw John Barrymore 
standing beside her. He was wearing a 
magnificent blue military coat, but no 
trousers. "To scare me, I guess," she 
mused, remembering. 

Then there was the time Ethel Barry- 
more, bothered with an eye infection, 
refused treatment from the specialist 
Peggy called in because his name was 
Dr. Blind . . . and the afternoon when 
Luise Rainer, as the silent wife in "The 
Good Earth," got stung by a bee and 
added a scream to the script. Peggy was 
rushed all the way to location, but didn't 
mind; Luise is a lovable patient. . . . 

TOR glamour girls who diet too stren- 
uously and have nervous collapses on 
the set, Miss Coleman offers this anti- 
dote: a hypodermic needle and a good 

She once made the headlines by call- 
ing Max Baer a crybaby. "Men suffer 
so at the slightest thing, anyway," she 
remarked when we talked with her. 

Garbo, Miss Coleman assured us, gets 
the stomach-ache. We were just about 
to ask the remedy when our hostess 
said, dreamily, "I've worked on all her 
pictures, and I'm terribly fond of her. 
She's a very dainty person — and her 
feet aren't big! One day, during the 
filming of her second picture one of the 
fourteen horses that were drawing her 
carriage fell and was dragged along by 

the others. It was a very spectacula 

"Yes?" we prodded, anxiously. 

"I had a terrible time fixing that horsi 
up," said Miss Coleman. 


What— A Script Tease, Too? 

ISE ones in both New York ant 
Hollywood thought Gypsy Rose Hovicl 
was just fooling when she said she wa: 
deserting the strip-stage permanently 
for the flickers. But they had her wrong 
She is buying a home in Beverly Hill: 
and will commute between there anc 
Manhattan to visit new hubby Rober 
Mizzy. Despite all that talk abou 
Gypsy's screen career being none tot 
secure, the studio has discovered tha 
she is really a rare gal. A "comedienne- 
heavy," they call her. It's a type ex- 
tremely difficult to find. She's tall 
graceful enough to be a typical clothe; 
horse, yet comic enough to take custarc 
pies square on the chin without losing 
her dignity. 

An Editorial Eye-Opener on Movies 


*T last, in "We Make the Movies,' 
edited by Nancy Naumburg, those un- 
seen toilers who make the movie wheel; 
go round have a chance to speak theii 
piece, and a vastly entertaining and eye- 
opening piece it is. Herein, producer 
screen writer, casting director and other 
fellow experts who work together on a 
film, from its start to its finish, describe 
their respective jobs, thus rounding out 
a most authentic picture of the industry, 

For the serious student of the film. 
here is good sound advice on how to 
prepare screen material; realistic ac- 
counts of the problems to be faced in 
readying a picture for its release, with 
practical hints as to how to solve them. 
For the interested movie -goer, the book 
is a fascinating series of answers to the 
"How did they ever film that?" question. 

Though each chapter tells of count- 
less hours of day and night grind while 
a picture is in production, and of gray 
hairs and headaches acquired in the 
process, the final impression is one of 
an enthusiastic labor of love not to be 
equalled by followers of any other ca- 
reer in the world. Which explains, per- 
haps, why this book is so important. 

Keeping Up With the Jones 


UST before the precious Jones baby 
arrived, Allan went around town deep 
in thought. He wanted to buy a very 
special present for it, but couldn't figure 
out what it should be. Irene was more 
than a little shocked with his decision. 
He took home a new-born colt that 
night. It will grow right up with the 

It's practically the charge of the light brigade when Phil Regan and his famous brood ride up hil 
and down dale in cinema city. They are (left to right) Joseph, Marilyn, Phil, Sr., Joan and Phil, Jr. 


Ymm AdiCjSXz, 


"I depend on 
ACTIVE lather to 
guard against 



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blemishes, enlarged pores — comes 
when pores are choked. Lux Toilet 
Soap's ACTIVE lather guards against 
this because it removes dust, dirt, stale 
cosmetics thoroughly. 

"I use rouge and powder, of course," 
says Joan Bennett. "But I always use 
Lux Toilet Soap!" And Louise Piatt 
tells you: "I use this nice soap because 
I think soft, smooth skin is very im- 
portant to charm!" 

Don't take chances! Protect your 
skin, keep it lovely by using this gen- 
tle soap before you renew make-up — 
ALWAYS before you go to bed. 

Win the 
romance, every 
girl longs for 

9 out of 10 Hollywood Screen Stars use Lux Toilet Soap 


Ginger's "Having Wonderful Time 


(Continued from page 19) 

bounty of it. But until then — a stop- 
sign to Cupid. 

Love would be a nuisance, upsetting 
her careful plans, troubling her sleep, 
making her nervous and discontented. 

To the procession of hopeful, freshly 
groomed swains who came bearing gifts 
and invitations, Ginger made honest an- 
swer. I think you are nice, I like the 
way your hair curls, it is fun to dance 
with you, I can't imagine anything nicer 
than wearing your orchids or eating the 
food you buy. 

But if it's love you want, I'm sorry. 
Forget romance, and I will go with you, 
and we will have a wonderful time to- 

In the last year, five men have liked 
her enough, if not to keep from falling 
in love with her, at least to respect her 
ban on sentiment. Jimmy Stewart, gay 
and young and ineffably a smart bach- 
elor-about-town, squired her for a time. 
You saw them everywhere: dashing 
through the rain from theater exits in 
slacks; in white tie and decolletage at 
the Troc — usually laughing, sometimes 
in solemn conversation about who in- 
vented buttons or technique on a roller 
coaster. When she was busy he ran 
about with Virginia Bruce. Neither girl 
was a rival of the other. 

When Jimmy became ill and went 
away for a long rest, a young socialite 
named Alfred Vanderbilt came to town, 
and during a short period he and Ginger 
had fun together. They gave a roller- 
skating party that almost every impor- 
tant star in Hollywood went to — so that 
next day most of the people in every 
studio came to work limping. And the 
papers said, in effect, "Oh you Vander- 
bilt and Rogers . . ." 

But before very long he'd gone back 
to New York and Cary Grant had rung 
Ginger's doorbell, bringing candy and 
flowers. They made a marvelous team: 
he's robust and indefatigable on the 
dance floor or in sports and his sense of 
the usual Hollywood neurosis just isn't, 
that's all; and he likes to laugh better 
than almost anything else in the world. 

I SPENT a Sunday at that beach house 
Cary and Randy Scott share together, 
and Ginger, due to show up at eleven, 
wandered vaguely in at two in the aft- 
ernoon. She'd been to church, she said. 
Cary called her "Goldy," with justifica- 
tion: the new Ginger somehow glitters 
with that vibrant sheen. They clattered 
off in her car a little later, to look at 
real estate — Cary'd heard of a hilltop for 
sale at some outrageous bargain. 

The watching columnists had wonder- 
ful time with this, too. "Ca-ry luhvs 
Gin-ger!" they said through their type- 
writers — albeit through their hats. Be- 
cause, in a few weeks, it was Robert 
Riskin, the scenarist, who sat next to 
Ginger at previews and brought her to 
* parties. 

Just now they say Lee Bowman has 
supplanted Riskin. "Supplanted" is the 
wrong word; because, since all these 
men were only her friends in the begin- 
ning, they remain her friends. But, 
then, the publicity department has to 
have something to wire to the press 
syndicates, hasn't it? 

There was the business of love, then; 
and there was her career. Ginger fixed 
that by going in and having a little chat 
with her bosses at RKO. She's a shrewd 
showwoman — she knows that one of the 
most important reasons why she is in 
the big box-office Ten is her entente 
with the graceful Astaire; they are 
listed as a team. Still, if she makes 
nothing but dancing pictures as his co- 


star, she loses her respective identity 
with the public. She's half a star, shar- 
ing her glory with another personality 
just as vital. 

In her own right, Ginger is a good 
comedienne. The answer, then, was to 
make pictures like "Stage Door," in 
which she stood or danced alone. Two 
pictures with Fred a year would balance 
neatly with the other schedule. 

There was learning what to do about 
vacations. She's had four in the last 
three years and they've all been hectic, 
nerve-racking, much more tiring than 
her regular work at the studio. 

The first of these she needed fearfully. 
She'd been slaving for two and a half 
years without a rest. They offered her 
a week in New York ("A whole week," 
they said) and she went happily. 

New York tore her to pieces. For 
seven days and four of the nights it 
mobbed her, it came for interviews, it 
asked her to pose for stills, it besieged 
her to autograph little books. Finally, 
in desperation, she put on the dark wig 
she had used for her last picture and 
took a cab up to Harlem. In the noisiest 
club there no one recognized her; she 
was with Florence Lake and several 
celebrants asked for Florence's signa- 
ture, but they ignored Ginger. She 
stayed until four o'clock in the morning. 

run like crazy back to the cottage, to 
spend the dreary day playing backgam- 
mon before a fire. 

Two afternoons were clear. On the 
first, Ginger caught one small fish, 
which that evening tasted rather like 
broiled carpet but which she ate de- 
terminedly. On the second she saw an 
Indian in full regalia and with an Ox- 
ford accent. He was so pretty she de- 
cided to make a charcoal sketch of him 
and he posed willingly for an hour, until 
it started to rain again. Then he with- 
drew into his blanket. 

Ginger wasn't finished. "Tomorrow, 
at the same time," she told him. But 
the next day there was a storm, and for 
six days thereafter. And the seventh 
day was the Sabbath, and Ginger came 
home to Hollywood. 

From now on she'll spend her vaca- 
tions in bed, where at least you can't 
get rained on. And Ginger will make 
her whole life one long vacation, any- 
how, since she has learned to enjoy her 
work at the studio. 



LITTLE later, Texas asked her to 
come to their Centennial celebration so 
they could make her the admiral of their 
navy and she went; but it wasn't much 
fun. After all, she was still a movie star 
on parade. 

She got three shopping days in New 
York again and that was just plain work. 
When the studio allowed her another 
three days before she started "Stage 

HE final — and I rather think the most 
important — thing necessary to her hav- 
ing wonderful time, all the time, was 
the house which she built last year. 
Since its completion she has made it 
the center of her life; it's the reason 
why you never see her at any of the 
night spots in Hollywood. 

"Why," she asked of me, "should I go 
out and spend some man's good money 
for something I've got at home? If I 
liked to drink it would be different, but 
as it is I just sit and get bored in a 
cabaret while everyone else gets tight. 
My own food is better than what you 
find in night clubs. And I don't give a 
hoot about the publicity." 

"Having Wonderful Time" may be the name of the film but Gin- 
ger and Peggy Conklin don't seem any too happy in this scene 

Door," Ginger tried a new approach. 
She got in her car and drove, alone, to 
a place near Santa Barbara. She won't 
tell where it is, because she might want 
to use it again. There she sat all day 
in the sun, reading; she went to bed 
early, got up late. This was getting 
somewhere, at last. 

After "Stage Door," providence took a 
hand and saw that she was offered a 
four weeks' vacation. The girl was al- 
most hysterical. She packed golf bags, 
tennis rackets, play shorts, swimming 
suits and a cousin and went off to Banff, 
near Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada, 
for a month of sports. So it rained 
every day she was there. Each morn- 
ing, at sunup, she and her cousin Phyllis 
Fraser would charge hopefully out of 
their cottage, laden with paraphernalia; 
usually, just as they reached the lake, 
the rain would start — and they would 

The house is on top of a mountain, 
where it belongs; the main building has 
two bedrooms, a living room, a dining 
room, a solarium, and a gigantic play- 
room with everything a playroom 
should have and a soda fountain instead 
of a bar. You can have a drink if you 
like, but usually you're too busy con- 
cocting messes out of five kinds of ice 
cream and bananas and cherries and 
nuts to ask for a Scotch and soda. 

Behind the house proper there's a 
pool and tennis courts, and above these, 
on the summit, is a little studio with 
living quarters where Ginger does her 
charcoal work and looks at Catalina, 
sixty miles off, on clear days. She's 
good with those little charcoal sticks. I 
saw some self-portraits she'd finished, 
and a head of Katharine Cornell, and 
she'd managed more than a resemblance 
in all of them. 

Ginger and her mother moved to 
the place before it was finished, h 
only a bed for furniture. Last \ V 
Year's Eve, just after she had tin 
possession, Mervyn LeRoy and Jear ; e 
MacDonald and a lot of her friends n 
up a progressive dinner, and invited r. 
But, of course, she was the one who A 
to furnish the entree. The whole p y 
ate it, in Ginger's bedroom, lightec y 
candles and flashlights, off borrc d 
cardtables, because the bedroom was e 
only room in the house that had 1 n 
plastered. Caterers shuffled biy 
around in the sawdust, stumbling i»r 
bits and levels and saws and other . 
pedimenta left by the carpenters. W n 
that Rogers girl has an enthusiasm e 
admits of no half measures. 

The friends who crowd her h(e 
are friends she has known for ye;. 
Ordinarily, a star plays politics as e 
rises in box-office, making intimate f 
those who can help her. Well, Girr 
makes new friends occasionally— t 
only because she likes their looks. i\ 
the old ones stay on. 

Ben Alexander, Florence Lake (G- 
ger's closest confidante), cousin Phjs 
Fraser, Courtney Ryley Cooper, Luc: 
Ball, Margaret Sullavan, Andy Dev . 
Betty Furness and Johnny Green— ,t 
there's no space to list all of them. Th 
come to Chez Rogers to play games ; I I 
have a wonderful time. No one e i 
gets tight; they get sick, sometin, 
from eating too many glutinous cone 
tions at the fountain, but not tigh 
there's no time. Everybody's always 
busy trying to beat someone else a 

VJINGER, for that matter, is the m 
game -conscious hostess in Holly wo 
Her favorite is a thing she calls "Qi 
tations"; you divide up into two teai 
and separate; then each person write: 
quotation or a trite phrase like "It ne\ 
rains but it pours" on a slip of pap 
The teams get together in the playroo 
then, and exchange slips. With a tw 
minute time limit, you have to get 
and act out the quotation given you 
that your own team can guess what it 
— and it's all pantomime. For instann 
for the "rain" phrase you indicate s 
words on your fingers, shake your he 
for "never," stand huddled under : 
imaginary umbrella, tilt a pitcher f 
"pours." Later in the evening, you c; 
get around to famous events in histoi 
like Cleopatra and Anthony on the Ni j 

When a Rogers party plays Murdcj 
with all the lights out, you can he. 
them in Westwood Village, fifteen mil 
away. I often have. 

They like to do another dignifo 
thing, too, which is a take-off on hidt 
and-seek. One person hides and the* 
everybody starts searching. Those wr 
find him must just stay quietly wit 
him, wherever he is, until at last or 
poor goat is left wandering around th 
house, all alone. 

The last time they did this Andy Dei 
vine was last, but not exactly the goa 
you see Ginger, who was It, had chose 
to hide in a small closet full of mop 
and things. And there were fourtee 
persons playing the game. It took al 
most ten minutes to extricate then 
when Andy finally opened the dooi: 
and another hour to replace all the dis 

"So it's fun," said Ginger to me, put ( 
ting her feet up on a table. "I've gc| 
things settled for myself at last— I n 
free, I'm not in love— I've got everythin; 
that I want— I'm having a wonderfu 

fytMsMvO*"" 1 . „ 



P7ia£ makes one woman's 
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(above) Mrs. Goelet at 
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(lower left) In the 
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Mrs. Goelet's home is in New 
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Their Hollywood Reputations 

Hepburn isyVice President in charge of 
Dignified Silence. Margaret Sullavan 
belongs and Marlene Dietrich is eligible 
for membership. 

All are expert camera-dodgers. Get- 
ting an appointment for an interview 
with any one of them is like gaining 
an audience with The Presence. And 
the people who work at their studios 
complain that the ladies are all vastly 
unco-operative when it conies to mat- 
ters involving publicity, portrait sit- 
tings, and the conditions under which 
they are willing to work. 

It's only an exclusive few who call 
these girls by their first names and 
there's very little genial informality on 
their sets. I was very amused, for in- 
stance, by the electrician who told me 
that the ambition of his life was to catch 
Marlene Dietrich in a crap game. 

Simone Simon is a perfect example 
of a girl who has learned that the mar- 
ketable value of temperament or temper 
is questionable. 

At first, Simone's erratic conduct was 
a defense mechanism. During her early 
days in Hollywood she understood very 
little English. We can appreciate, then, 
why the questions of Hollywood report- 
ers often confused her. She was ter- 
ribly afraid of saying the wrong thing, 
and it was because of this phobia that 
she made her mistake. Instead of ad- 
mitting her dilemma and seeking ex- 
perienced advice, Simone would "dumb 
it up" and say nothing at all. Report- 
ers found her a deadly emulator of the 

Simone also made another mistake. 
She carried her silence and her reluc- 
tance to co-operate into her professional 
association with studio executives. She 
would be late on the set, make appoint- 
ments and not keep them. When she 
was disciplined, she pouted. 

Today, Simone recognizes her mis- 
takes and is trying to change the opin- 
ions of those people at the studio who 
still regard her in the light of a can- 
tankerous colt. 


F course, there are two sides to 
every story. At least, these girls have 
the satisfaction of knowing they're get- 
ting along all right in spite of the opin- 
ions that emanate from the ranks. 

Too, we must remember that very 
few, if any of us, can claim to be little 
winged darlings when it comes to dis- 
positions. We're too chemical. Our 
whatchamacallits are too susceptible to 
flattery, fame and fortune. 

It follows logically, then, that no one 
in Hollywood is a Perfect Angel — and 
aren't we glad? Perfect Angels make 
such dull copy. 

However, talk to the majority of peo- 
ple who work with the stars and you'll 
hear that, on the whole, they are a very 
normal, a very sane, and a very gener- 
ous race of people. 

Everyone, naturally, has his or her 
especial favorite, and it's too bad there 
isn't space to give every lady her proper 

You'll hear, for instance, that Joan 
Crawford comes darn near being the 
most gracious star in pictures. There 
isn't a member of her working crew for 
whom she hasn't, at some time or other, 
done something especially thoughtful. 

For example, there was the laborer 
who fell from a scaffold and broke his 
leg during production on one of Joan's 
latest pictures. Because of certain cir- 
cumstances surrounding the accident, 
the man discovered that studio com- 
pensation covered the resultant doctor 
bills for 'only one week. 

(Continued jrom page 25) 

Joan discovered it too, and for five 
additional weeks, while the ailing man's 
bone mended, she paid the bills. 

You'll hear that Carole Lombard is a 
fairy godmother to newcomers — ask 
Margaret Tallichet, or Dorothy Lamour, 
or Fred MacMurray, any one of whom 
will tell you that Carole is responsible 
for more than one rung in his or her 
ladder to success. 

You'll hear that Ginger Rogers is the 
darling of the news photographers, be- 
cause Ginger is just the opposite of 
those exasperating glamour queens who 
get all gussied up to go someplace 
where they know perfectly well they'll 
find photographers — and then pretend 
they don't want their pictures taken. 

The scribblers are all fond of Shirley 
Temple, too, because she's not the 
spoiled moppet you'd expect, but a 
really good child who minds her mother. 

They admire Myrna Loy because she's 
a girl who has found "her man" and 
doesn't care who knows it. The man, 
of course, is her husband, Arthur Horn- 
blow, Jr. 

They all cheer for Sigrid Gurie be- 
cause she's the only movie girl imported 
from Norway who will admit that she 
falls flat on her face every time she puts 
on a pair of skis. 


UT, in all the acquired evidence, the 
names of two girls occurred with in- 
creasing persistence. One, suh, is that 
cute blonde comedienne from Ken- 
tucky, Una Merkel. 

A studio-employed chauffeur told me 
that Una was one of the few out of the 
many movie girls he has piloted about 
town who always talks to him as though 
he were Somebody — who always finds 
time to inquire about his wife and kids. 

It was during production on "Sara- 
toga" that one of the prop boys learned 
that Una's father was suffering from in- 
fluenza. Unknown to Una, during his 
lunch hour, he took time to drive home 
'for a prescription that had once helped 
him fight the same bug. He wanted 
Mr. Merkel to have it. 

"I didn't mind the trouble," the boy 
said to Una later. "You're such a nice 
guy that I kinda figured your Old Man 
must be a nice guy, too." 

When it comes to being nice, Una is 
like that elephant we hear so much 
about — she never forgets. And when 
you speak of the very normal size of 
her headgear, Una will answer like this: 

"Any time those of us who enjoy suc- 
cess feel our heads beginning to swell, 
we can speedily cure the malady by re- 
membering what we once were, and by 
remembering that we can go back to 
being what we once were just twice as 
fast as we came up." 


HE other name I heard sung in praise 
so often was that of a girl who is de- 
serving of particular credit because 
she's one of the ten biggest box-office 
attractions in Hollywood, and when 
you're one of the ten biggest box-office 
attractions in motion pictures you don't 
have to be nice to anybody! 

The name is Claudette Colbert, and, 
according to the people who work with 
her, she has no peer in sportsmanship. 

Of all the things I heard about her 
as I talked with fitters, hairdressers, 
prop boys and scores of other artists 
and technicians, the words of one assist- 
ant director struck me as being particu- 
larly trenchant. 

"Good-humored? Generous? Yes," 
he repeated, "but Claudette's is a rarer 
type of sportsmanship — the homely, 
garden variety that isn't patronizing. 

When she does something nice she L 
it go at that. There's none of this hoi 
ing out her hands for mental kisses su 
as is the habit with some movie star 

Miss Colbert, apparently, does 
think of herself as a star, or as a terril 
important person. The day I talked 
her she had just returned to her dre; 
ing room from the set of her currt 
picture, "Bluebeard's Eighth Wife." 
saw in Claudette few of the usual e\ 
dences of brilliant and lucrative succe 
She sat on her feet in an overstuff 
chair. She unfastened the first butto 
of her high collar "for comfort." 

How is it that Claudette has avoid 
that "certain swagger" that too oft 
accompanies a Hollywood succes 
Isn't she ever tempted to change the t 
of her nose? 

"Oh no," laughed she, by way of a. 
swer, "you don't know my family. ,j 
long as they're around me I don't sta; 
a chance of losing balance. My mothi 
my husband and my brother are n 
best friends, but, believe me, they' 
also my severest critics." 


ESIDES that, however, Miss Colbe 
must maintain some rare state of mil 
to have such an army of faithful roo 
ers. In just what light might she coi 
sider her enviable position. 

Without the slightest hesitation si 
said, "Why, I'm a working girl." 

So that's the answer! 

When she is walking on or off a s 
she never thinks about glory or glan 
our. She's merely a hard-working pe: 
son who earns her salary, just like tl 
fitter, or the grip, or the hairdresse 

"After all," she explained, "I net 
every person on the set just as muc 
if not more, than they need me. Na 
urally, we're all out to give our be; 
and our best depends on mutual c< 
operation. They work for me and 
work for them." 

There you have it. Claudette spur; 
the velvet carpet and purple robes. C 
the set, she's one of the gang, and that 
why the studio boys and girls wou 
do or die for her. 

Other people like her, too: her bosse 
her fellow stars, and Hollywood's coi 

Hollywood writers aren't very awt 
by movie folks. Stars are just part i 
their reportorial jobs, but the press gar 
will vote for Claudette any day, becau: 
she doesn't go in for any hanky-pank 

If she doesn't want to talk, at lea 
she'll tell you so, and won't keep a fe 
low cooling his heels and his temper fc 
a ten-day period of indecision. 

And if she says she'll talk, she mear 
it literally. There will be no coy evs 

We, here in Hollywood, know th; 
movie stars have to think a lot abov 
themselves, and for that reason w 
wonder if they'd ever be satisfied £ 
anything but movie stars. 

Claudette is the only one who hf 
ever given us what sounds like a reall 
frank answer. She has the courage t 
admit that the future years frighten he 

"I'm a sissy," she said wistfull; 
"After ten years as an actress I, toi 
often wonder if I'd ever be completel 
happy in any profession that require 
less consideration of my own functio 
in it." 

In fact, Claudette is so pleasantl 
down-to-earth as an interviewee th: 
once her words are in print, the write 
is apt to stare at them and wonder 
they weren't a part of some agreeabl 
dream— or if the whole interview wasn 
just one big typographical error! 




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blended to flatter the foot in Queen Quality Shoes. 

Division of International Shoe Co. 

It's time to talk of trousseau 

no s 

Tony Martin admires Mrs. Tony Martin (Alice Faye) as final touches 
are added to the tulle wedding dress worn in "Sally, Irene and Mary" 


DOES a thrill run up your back when 
you attend a wedding? I hope so, for 
you will be better able to understand 
my mood as I commence this letter. I have 
just come from Twentieth Century-Fox Stu- 
dios where I watched Alice Faye take mar- 
riage vows in "Sally, Irene and Mary." I'm 
brimful of romance and dying to chatter 
about brides and trousseaus, for I think 
there's no greater fun in all the world than 
helping a bride-to-be plan and select her 
lovely clothes. 

As I was leaving the studio I ran into 
Gwen Wakeling who designed Alice's ex- 
quisite wedding gown and from her I gath- 
ered trousseau notes galore. 

Miss Wakeling's first suggestion for the 
spring bride was that her clothes be gay — 
even her wedding gown! For instance, an 
ice-blue tulle gown printed with miniature 
bouquets of spring flowers and styled with 
a bouffant skirt, a tiny waist, a shirred bodice 
and piquant sleeves — the veil of ice-blue 
tulle, short, and held to the head with a 

cluster of flowers to match those printed on 
her gown. 

Miss Wakeling also urges the bride who is 
to be married in a going-away costume to 
skip the conventional and plan something 
really exciting — an outfit that will be senti- 
mentally packed away in a trunk and saved 
forever for its beauty as well as its mem- 

In this year of color Miss Wakeling sug- 
gests pastel chiffon tweeds for a going-away 
ensemble. A frock of slate blue, golden yel- 
low, leaf green or pink beige, simple in cut — 
straight-line — trimmed only with a novel 
choker necklace or clip with duplicate brace- 
let; plus a topcoat of matching color in 
deeper hue, unfurred (or if furred, prefer- 
ably with lynx) ; a hat of felt the shade of 
the frock with contrast trim to match shoes 
and bag. Choose the latter in navy blue for 
green, pink beige or blue, and rust for yel- 
low. Altar-bound, this type of costume is 
surprisingly flattering; it is smart as punch 
for honeymoon travel and practical wear. 

and bridal gowns and brides. Ho 

are some of the smartest wedd 


proposals ever made in Hollywc\ 

The topcoat of this wedding costume \ 
serve with equal chic to ensemble sevtl 
other frocks. Let's pretend your coat is d ) 
blue. Alternate it with frocks of dusty r< , 
steel grey, green and a gay print or t . 
You'll have several complete outfits — each 
individual as the other (in fact, it's bre£- 
taking what smartness you can achieve i 
any wardrobe with one well-chosen coat ; I 
set of accessories plus varied frocks) . 

A trousseau should include at least (j 
jacket frock. Miss Wakeling suggests ond 
navy sheer woolen with a matching fc] 
length box jacket of Chinese influence it 
boasts loose sleeves, a tiny upstanding col 
and a trim look about the shoulders. El 
the frock, short-sleeved and slim, with a t 
waist and bosomy blouse in red, and wl 
one of those smart navy straw sailors ma 
by Byron with a tiny veil tied around | 
edge of the brim. 

Then from this one smart frock make si 
eral by adding a half-dozen extra little jai 
ets. Say a brief bolero of tweed, or e 
broidered fabric; one of suede in color w 
matching gloves; a bust-length jacket of f 
or one of brushed angora; and, later on in 1 
season, have some of printed linen — and c 
of white pique. 

I COULD go on forever about clothes | 
the spring bride, but I must get on with 1 1 
month's news of Hollywood fashions. 

"The Joy of Loving" stars Irene Dun 
Edward Stevenson has done a magnifies 
job of dressing her for this picture. In fa 
on the set the other day Miss Dunne look 
lovelier than I have ever seen her. She v 
wearing a purple pansy chiffon wool dn 
cut with a high neckline, long sleeves anc 
slim skirt which boasted slight front fullne 
The waistline was girdled with a crush b 
of the dress fabric, and a large cluster of g( 
grapes highlighted the right side of the nee 
line and matched a wide bracelet. Jose 
of Hollywood created this exciting jewel: 

Kalloch of Columbia is busy creating 
wardrobe for Joan Blondell to wear 
"There's Always a Woman." The outstar 
ing frock of the collection to date is a bole 
ensemble of navy cashmere. The frock 
straight-line with crescent-shaped skirt poo 
ets embroidered in white angora to mat 1 
those that finish the circular corners of t 
bolero and trim the closing detail of the se 
fabric belt. 

On the Warner Brothers lot Carole Loi 
bard is stunningly gowned by Travis Bant 
as she films her next gay comedy with F< 
nand Gravet. Don't miss seeing her. 

That's all for now. Next month, I'll wri 
about resort and cruise clothes — giving y 
grand advance hints of summer clothes. 

The Star of Warner Bros.' 
"Jezebeu\. .Bette Davis... 

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gold perfect face, but when face and 
hair and gown are part of her — when 
she descends the stairs to the drawing 
room a perfectly groomed, perfectly 
beautiful woman. He waits for this mo- 
ment. So does she. And because of 
that she never discusses her make-up, 
hair or clothes problems with him. She 
shows him only the finished product — 
on her. He approves, almost invariably, 
because Mrs. Gibbons possesses unerr- 
ing taste. She dresses herself dramati- 
cally and interestingly as one should 
who "walks in beauty like the night." 

But, if the rare disapproval of Mr. 
Gibbons is bent on a certain gown or 
suit or chapeau, Mrs. Gibbons discards 
it . . . forever. She might have loved 
the little number, but if her husband 
doesn't, it loses meaning for her. She 
not only thinks his judgment is second 
to none in all this wide world, she also 
thinks no man living is so handsome. 
She is never without his picture in her 
bag, and on her dressing table. 

Outside her very large, all-silver bed- 
room, which overlooks a garden heavily 
fragrant with the scent of more than 
sixty-five mystery-gardenia bushes, and 
the violet-blue slumberous Pacific be- 
yond, is a long balcony extending 
around two sides of the room. Until 
this past year she sunbathed there 
daily. Now, she uses instead, a large, 
six foot deep, whitewashed cement pit 
dug into her back yard. Lying there, on 
the gleaming, cream-colored sand which 
she imports by the truckload thrice 
yearly from the famed Monterey beach, 
she avoids the breezes from the sea, and 
gains the advantage of the sun's reflec- 
tions from both the whitewashed sides 
of the pit and the sand. 

Dolores uses no oils, no creams. She 
exposes her body to the sun during the 
hottest weather, sometimes as long as 
four hours daily, yet she has never 
burned or dried her skin! But this, she 
hastens to add, is because of her herit- 
age. And no one, unless he is de- 
scended, as she is, from the ancient 
Toltecs of Mexico who worshipped the 
sun and took it constantly, should try 
to emulate her. Sun bathing, inciden- 
tally, is Miss Del Rio's one ritual. She 
considers it Nature's great cure for 
nerves, and she cannot stress its value 
too strongly. 

But you, she points out, and you and 
you, should take it easy. Expose in the 
morning, use oil. Regulate your in- 
creasing amount of sun daily. And don't 
think just because you haven't Toltecs 
back of you that you can start the line 
going. It won't work. 


E said sun bathing is Miss Del Rio's 
one ritual. That's a mistake. There is 
another. Diet. Just after her marriage 
to Mr. Gibbons, some years ago, she took 
to her bed for many long months with 
a serious ailment. Two things happened 
to her during that enforced hospitaliza- 
tion: Mr. Gibbons designed and built the 
lovely modern house which, the first 
time she saw it (and that was only when 
she was able to leave her bed) , forever 
weaned her away from her beloved 
Mexican architecture. The second thing 
that happened was that in an effort to 
keep well thereafter she took up seri- 
ously the study of diet. 

Her breakfast, for example, is com- 
posed of several different kinds of fruit, 
because each one has its individual food 
value. She prefers, incidentally, cooked 
fruit to raw. She has toast, an egg and 
coffee, also. And only one cup of coffee 
a day. The rest of the time # it's milk. 
She says milk isn't fattening, keeps your 

(Continued jrom page 32) 

teeth strong, your bones healthy, and 
makes your flesh firm and smooth. 

"Drink milk, milk, then more milk," 
she stressed to us; then added, "and for 
strong, long nails, eat either one egg 
every day, or a dish that contains one. 
Also, eat desserts made of fruit." 

"Do you drink?" we asked. 

"Hard liquor, never!" 


"Occasionally, yes." She added quick- 
ly, "But much water! Eight full glasses 
every single day." 

"How about candy?" 

"That has energizing value. Every so 
often a piece is very good for you." 

For lunch she has three vegetables. 
If you don't know the vitamin content 
of vegetables, simply vary the color 
scheme and you'll get it that way. With 
the vegetables, she has a green salad 
and milk. 

Dinner calls for some sort of hot 
broth, fruit salad, chicken or meat (only 
once a day, notice) and again, milk. 
She never eats between meals. These 
menus are sufficiently typical. If you 
want them technical, it's eighty-five 
percent calcium, protein and alkaline 
content, and fifteen percent starch. She 
works her menus out each morning with 
her cook. You can work out your own 
menus, too, and if you begin to tumble 
by the highway, remember the Del Rio 
chassis. If you haven't got it, get it. 
If you get it, keep it. By all means! 

Food dispensed with, we next turn to 
sleep. Here again schedule is predomi- 
nant. Eight hours nightly. Miss Del 
Rio quotes the late Arthur Brisbane, 
who said that it takes two weeks of 
regular sleep to overcome the shock of 
the nervous system resulting from one 
night's incomplete rest. % Therefore, the 
star's bedtime hour is regulated accord- 
ing to her morning rising. Betwixt the 
two, eight hours must elapse with her 
head nestled on her big, fluffy pillow. 
She sees to it that it does. 

And if you mention daytime relaxing 
she leaps into the subject with a vigor 
that displays her respect for it. "Be 
lazy," she pleads. "Let go." Then, in- 
dignantly, she will tell you that if 
women were more sensible, they would 
cease going to beauty shops for facials, 
and would, instead, lie down quietly in 
the peace of their bedroom for the same 
length of time, and arise more beautiful 
in face, and more peaceful in spirit. 


EACE of spirit is one of her great pos- 
sessions. She works for it and treas- 
ures it carefully. She has two anti- 
dotes for the lack of that quality: if she 
is bored, she discusses with other people 
their private problems. It takes her 
mind off herself. It serves as a contrast. 
It reminds her to check her temper, of 
which she detests losing control. Her 
other antidote for spiritual peace is a 
spiritual life. 

Dolores spends many tranquil hours 
in her bedroom. Her bed is large, low 
and silver. Over in a corner of the 
room, comfortably close, is its duplicate 
in miniature, on which sleeps Bonnie 
of Bligh, her champion bull terrier. 
There is even a duplicate, though not 
of real fur, of the mistress's bed cover. 
Possibly it is Bonnie's impressive num- 
ber of blue ribbons which gives her this 
privilege; certainly it is not accorded to 
Michael, Dolores' other dog, but then 
Michael does not possess Bonnie's dig- 
nity (nor quite her record) . 

The rest of the bedroom is silver, too. 
It is of wide, spacious proportions, un- 
cluttered, with a gleaming kind of soft- 
ness about it. When the sun shines 

sir 11 


brightly, a mirror on the wall, hi u] 
with gold instead of the usual s » 
glows radiantly like burnished co r 
providing a spectacular and lovely e 
Beyond is Dolores' smart, all-] I 
bathroom, and beyond that, her d ; . 
ing room, with its windows curt; |1( j 
in floor-length white silk fringe. i r . 
the floor is an oversized leopard 
The dramatic quality of these i 
two rooms is in contrast to the si! 
silence of her bedroom, but all j 
are perfect for Del Rio. They coulc 
long only to Del Rio, and she is h 
in them. 

|N her dressing room is an impre 
cabinet filled with perfumes. Then 
over two hundred bottles, most of 
gilts from friends. There is a noti« 
variety of scents, for Del Rio does 
limit herself to any one scent, 
rather, prefers to suit her perfumf 
her frequently changing moods 

When she bathes she usually di 
pine-scented salts into her tub. 
she is ready to dress she uses a ma 
ing scent in bath powder, and a sin ! 
perfume. She is a fiend on mat 
odors. "Use them all the same, or l 
at all!" she tells you. "If each is 
ferent, they will fight." 

She doesn't ever take a shower 
cause she doesn't own one. She 1 
baths. She doesn't go in for salt gl 
or ice rubs, (and never on the fa 
or friction mitts, or anything like t 
She doesn't have massages very ol 
either, unless she's particularly we 
And if you've read somewhere that 
uses strained honey on her face, tl 
a base canard. The luscious quality 
coloring of her skin are due wholly 
solely to the sun baths, careful eat 
no drinking, sufficient exercise an 
contented soul. 

As for her method of cleaning, 
amazingly simple. She applies 
cream, until she's sure her skin is d 
nitely clean. No astringents, no mil 
oils, no night creams, no anything! 
make up she uses dark powder, with 
foundation whatsoever; mascara on 
eyes; no rouge on the cheeks. On 
lips she uses both lip rouge, (app) 
first, with a brush) and lipstick. 

She whipped the lipstick out while 
were talking and writing notes, and 
a brisk second, without a mirror, 
pushed it expertly around those 1 
cious, curving lips. 

"No mirror?" we gasped. 

Naively she shook her head. "I ni 
no mirror. I know where my mouth 
And she slipped the lipstick back i: 
her bag, continued from where she 1 
left off in the saga of being soign 
while we gulped in surprise. 

JHE has a vast, fairy-tale garden 
which white flowers predominate. S 
raises the great mystery-gardenias, 1 
favorite posy, with great success; 
them herself when she has the time, a 
places them lovingly in many wi 
bowls of crystal, copper and silv 
whence their deeply exotic fragrar 
drifts throughout the entire house. H 
dreams are probably fashioned from t 
snow-velvet loveliness that is alwa 
beside her bed. 

Beyond the garden, overhung wi 
flowering trees, is the distant sea. ( 
the other side of the house is her swir 
ming pool; near by, her champion tern 
courts which Vines declares to be tl 
finest in all California. Del Rio is n 
a ranking player, although she plays 
nice enough game; but Mr. Gibbons 
(Continued on page 80) 






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She says she "doesn't perspire" 

in winter — yet underarm odor 

spoils all her charm! 

She's a popular girl, Mary— in summer- 
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ting underarm odor spoil a summer 
romance! She knoivs that she perspires 
then because she sees it. 

Too bad she neglects underarm pre- 
cautions as soon as cold weather comes! 
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spire" in winter— to foolishly trust a 
bath alone to keep you sweet. 

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a tennis fiend, ergo, none but the best 
will do! Our heroine swims very well 
(and how she looks in her suits!) but 
is deliberately moderate about the time 
and energy she gives to sports. 

However, walking is her pet diversion. 
She seems to average two miles a day 
when she isn't busy at the studio, and 
chooses, for her exercise, the lovely 
rustic roads of Santa Monica Canyon. 
Bonnie and Michael frisk happily along- 
side, and their mistress strides ahead, 
breathing deeply, with chest out and 
head high. 

If, in her house, she wants a book 
from the library, or must discuss affairs 
with her cook, she walks to get the 
book, or see the cook. She doesn't send 
for either. In this way, making the 
dozens of little odd trips about the 
house, she consciously gets in more 
walking. And walking, my ladies, keeps 
hips svelte. 

She wears great chunky hunks of 
jewelry made of all sorts of stones, 
semiprecious and precious. A clip, for 
instance, that she likes, is a great, un- 
evenly shaped piece of onyx with an 
aquamarine and two large rubies flung 
roughly up in one corner. Her husband, 
incidentally, designs all her jewelry, 
which she has executed either here in 
Hollywood or in New York. 

His designing of her jewelry started 
quite by accident. She was very bored 
with all of her lovely, but conventional 
things, and was hopelessly considering 
having them redone, knowing full well 
what they would look like, when Mr. 
Gibbons, seeing her despair, drew up 
some quick sketches for her. Delighted 
with their originality, the star took both 
husband and sketches to a jeweler, got 
the spouse's valuable advice on choice 
of stones and execution, and found her- 
self the possessor of some unbelievably 
lovely jewelry. Her husband was 
amused by the success of his debut as 
a designer, and even more so when the 
jeweler himself, in excited tones, 
pleaded with Mr. Gibbons to name his 
own price and come to him as an exclu- 
sive designer of jewels! 

Note: Mr. Gibbons is still with 

from page 78) 

cades, and silky fringe — all spects l a , 
materials . . . although sometimes l e . 
pending upon her mood, she dres: j, 
floaty chiffons. Rich furs, of whic £1 
owns quantities, she idolizes; and J 
she bundles herself up in them^ 
looks more exciting than ever. 

She buys nothing, or orders no™ 
except for special events, wiJ 
thought. Everything is the resu i 
months of careful planning. Indeei j® 
deplores and wonders about the wJ 
who buy quickly, for it isn't logic t» 


LONG with unusual jewelry, Del 
Rio wears unusual clothes. Dramatic 
clothes. She hates anything that is in- 
definite. She works out most of her 
own designs with Irene, now in Bul- 
lock's Wilshire. Long before that clever 
young lady married Mr. Gibbons' 
younger brother, she did a great many 
of the star's clothes, and now, related 
or not, she still flings up her hands and 
tears her hair at the ofttime seemingly 
outrageous ideas that our Latin lady 
presents. They discuss them, argue 
about them, and frequently Irene flatly 
refuses to carry them out, in which case, 
concessions are made. Invariably, when 
they are finished, Del Rio, surprisingly 
enough, has another gown or suit that 
carries on her reputation of being an 
originally and smartly dressed woman. 

Neatness characterizes the Del Rio 
wardrobe. Every time Dolores takes off 
a dress it is thoroughly brushed before 
it is hung back in the closet. She is 
quite practical, too. For the amount of 
money she has, and the position she 
holds, she has fewer clothes than most 

Her favorite colors are all the shades 
of red; in fact, any warm color is im- 
mediately taken to her heart. She loves 
black and white combined, but has no 
decided color restrictions, except that 
she prefers definite colors with vivid 
tones to them, as she should, since they 
complement her own lush beauty of 
honey-gold skin and flashing eyes. 

She adores weighty materials, crisp 
ones, rough ones, nubbly ones. For night 
she prefers stiff taffetas, metallic bro- 

her that one can rush out and 

around desperately for a little coat ; g 
with one's new print. She has ^B 
things all ready. She consults the 
ion magazines, and co-ordinates 
with her own desires and ideas, b 
them, usually to Irene, and then 
both go to work. The process us 
takes three fittings, but the advanta 
having a sister-in-law in the desij 
business here takes on a rosy hue- 
tails, colors, new ideas, and mat 
can be discussed at lunches, dinne 
while the two husbands are busily 
ing tennis with each other. 


AY, for instance, that Connie Bei>tt 
or Countess di Frasso is going to 13 
a big party. Del Rio will decide be 
wants something entirely new and s v 
ning to wear. She'll tell Irene to sb 
up a number that is devilishly s;A 
and unusual, tell her, perhaps, to tfl 
the marvelous shoulder treatment « | 
last grey chiffon. Irene will incorp< te I 
this suggestion, add her own and el 
Rio's further ideas, and turn out scfl 
thing spectacular. And then, (anc :'s | 
happened before) Mrs. Gibbons I 
look a bit apologetic, but her liquid s 
will twinkle, and she'll say, "Irer I 
will not feel like this dramatically Du- 
tiful gown Saturday night. I will \it 
to have on something gay and chiles 
and naive ... I feel that way for p- 
urday night." And Irene will mais 
if possible; or, there is Magnin's wit 
you can't go wrong ... or, the nl 
might change again; but anyway, yi.U 
have a Del Rio at that party who 11 
make you gasp with envy. 

Once she told Irene she wante a 
gown of silver mesh — the kind of sf 
they use for belts and fancy colli. 
Irene, with trembling, doubting h«L 
designed something extremely sim:, 
turned it over to a silversmith, who t 
to work welding together yards i 
yards of the glittering, heavy m.i 
This took many days, but when I 
dress came out of the man's shop it s 
so stunning, so unusual, and so del- 
ously beautiful that it startled the e - 
lashes off every woman who saw • 
Unfortunately, the actress put her it 
through the hem at a big party, I 
blithely she trotted it back to the 
versmith, and again it was welded 
gether, just as good as new! 

When she wears her things a seal 
she packs them all (except the vA 
special favorites) into a trunk and sh- 
it to Mexico. There an aunt distribu 
the clothes to nieces, friends, and net 
ladies. Everything is in beautiful cc 
dition . . . clean, pressed, and prac 
cally as good as new. For when Dolo 
was very little her mother taught 1 
to be very careful of her clothes becai' 
they weren't meant for her enjoym< 
alone, but were to be given later 
other little girls, and must therefore 1 
ways be in perfect condition. 

So, today, she still sees that her lov 
ly clothes continue to give service a 
enjoyment to others, because her ent 
life is based on the premise: "Give a 
ye shall receive." 

So, you want to be soignee? He 
throughout these several pages y; 
have many pointers, Del Rio versi< 
Emulate her, and perhaps you, too, c 
"Walk in beauty like the night." 


The Miracle at the John Barrymores 

(Continued from page 26) 

■ou. "Ask fate, ask Winchell." 
; he was bored, maybe he was 
In any case, Elaine Jacobs was 
ified by a telephone call that eve- 
"This is John Barrymore. Are 
le young woman who wrote me a 
' All right. I'll see you at the 
al tomorrow afternoon." 
ne Jacobs arrived — a dark hand- 
*irl with a poise beyond her years, 
ise not of experience but of fear- 

ly do you want to interview me?" 
:ed her. 

;ause when I was twelve or thir- 
[ fell in love with you." 
socked that eyebrow. "Very in- 
ng. What was I playing?" 
lung back his head and whooped, 

wouldn't? His amusement left 
iperturbed. "Best gag that's ever 
pulled on me," he moaned at 
, wiping the tears from his eyes, 
bearded, greasy old so-and-so — " 
the truth just the same," she as- 

him tranquilly. "When you said 
ebrew prayer and died, you broke 
art — " 

afternoon flew, an afternoon gay 
olor and sparkle in a week of gray 

Barrymore asked Elaine Jacobs 
le to dinner the following evening 
ler mother. He found that Mrs. 
i, as well as Elaine, talked his 

m he left the hospital he went to 
iem, and Elaine showed him a 
iook full of pictures of himself in 

roles, including that of Svengali. 
It himself drawn to her — to her 
', yes; but more than that, to her 

young honesty, to her large- 
d humor, to a spirit and zest that 
ed his own. He found himself, 
, falling in love with her. 
h here is conjecture. One can 
guess that if Barrymore and 
is Costello had been happy in 
narriage, Elaine, while she might 
jot her interview, would certainly 
walked out of the hospital and 
nore's life. Inwardly, at any rate, 
nd and wife must already have 
to the parting of the ways. Bar- 
•e's sole and deep concern with 
ispect of the affair is that onus 

1 attach to no shoulders but his 

ave been sincere in my affections, 
e meant well. But accomplish- 
in my case often falls short, alas, 
sntion. I have many faults and, 
;, a modest quality or two. By a 
ar contradiction, the faults are the 
aggravated, the qualities are the 
diminished by daily association, 
jsult — " eloquently he spread his 

modern attitude toward divorce 
't make for headlines. Better a 
te ended than prolonged. It was 
• the stormy course of their love 
urned both Barrymore and Elaine 
newspaper copy. Their partings 
'eunions, their statements to the 
their Ariel-Caliban messages to 
other. The newspapers, if they 
heir minds to it, could turn the 
story of Paolo and Francesca into 
e-day mockery. And I, for one, 
a inquire what's wrong with Ariel 
-aliban? Think back to your own 
acies, and consider how much sil- 
>rour popsies and mopsies would 
sounded, if ever the reporters had 
ilasphemous hands upon them. 
i point lies not in the Barrymores' 
s' tiffs and reconciliations, but in 

the fact that, despite misunderstandings, 
these two diverse people have clung to 
each other, are happy in each other. 
Like all the world, Hollywood laughed 
at them. Well, Hollywood, which now 
knows them better than the rest of the 
world, has stopped laughing. It has 
seen John steered from a sea of emo- 
tional upheaval into a haven of peace. 
It has seen John the mercurial turn 
into John the steady. It has seen him 
content to spend his evenings playing 
(of all things!) parcheesi with his wife 
and mother-in-law, laughing up his 
sleeve as he watches Elaine's discreet 
maneuvres to throw the play first to 
one, then the other, unmasking her at 
length, "You moved this piece to help 
your mother, now you've got to move 
that one to help me," chortling over her 
discomfiture, and asking no gayer eve- 
ning's diversion. 

It has seen John (who once worked 
when he chose and, when he didn't, told 
studios they knew what they could do) 
give his best to picture after picture at 
Paramount, climaxing the whole with 
his superb performance in "True Con- 
fession." It has seen his tormented eyes 
grow clear, his haggard face smooth. 
And who but Elaine can have wrought 
the change? Why shouldn't Hollywood 
take off its hat to her? 

Rumor has it that another woman was 
in part responsible for his assignment 
to "True Confession." Ever since Carole 
Lombard came into her own as the lead 
opposite Barrymore in "20th Century," 
she's been chanting his praises. Again 
and again she has said: "He taught me 
more in six weeks than I'd learned in 
six years before knowing him." 

As for Barrymore, his eyes soften at 
mention of Carole's name. "Hecht and 
MacArthur wrote that play," he told 
me. "Gene Fowler had a hand in the 
screen version. When they got me, the 
whole fellowship resolved itself into a 
portrayal of the real nut. Then along 
came Carole like a simoom from the 
desert and found her destined niche. 
We people were all bitten by the same 
tsetse fly at birth. I never met Gene 
Fowler's mother or Carole's; they never 
met mine. But I think if those three 
ladies could have seen the thing to- 
gether, you'd have found them in the 
powder room later in joyous collapse on 
each other's shoulders." 

Don't ask Carole whether Barrymore 
was cast in her picture because she in- 
sisted on having him. She'll turn into 
a small tornado. "Go fly a kite," she'll 
tell you. "I had nothing to do with it. 
Neither did anyone else but Barrymore. 
When a studio's lucky enough to fiave 
the services of the finest actor in Holly- 
wood and a part that yells for him to 
play it, whom would you expect them 
to put into it — Mickey Mouse? They 
don't need me to teach them their busi- 
ness. If they did, my name'd be Zukor 
and I'd wear pants." 

Be that as it may, the rumor persists. 
And whether or not she's concealing the 
facts, Carole made no secret of her joy 
when Barrymore appeared on the set 
for work. She all but beat drums and 
clashed cymbals. Like a doting mother, 
beaming with pride and pleasure, she 
brought up members of the crew and 
cast to be introduced. Never what one 
would call a phlegmatic person, her 
spirits that day seemed to touch an all- 
time high. 


ARRYMORE, given his fattest part 
at Paramount, proceeded to furnish 
triumphant proof of the fact that he 
still belongs to the theater s royal fam- 


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ily in more than name. When the pic- 
ture was previewed, he was offered a 
long-term contract. He asked Elaine 
what she thought. 

"Are you comfortable there? Do you 
like the people? Well then, why not 
stay where you're happy?" 

Beyond that suggestion, she refused 
to influence him. 

"Living with me," said her husband, 
"is a little like living with one of Sir 
Henry Morgan's buccaneers. When you 
put the long pants on them, they're 
likely to chafe a bit. When you give 
them advice, they look at the other side 
and it becomes intensely attractive, 
merely by virtue of its being the other 

"Elaine doesn't give advice. If she 
fulfills the functions of a college pro- 
fessor, she's at least unobtrusive about 
it. Myself, I can conceive of no pleas- 
anter lot than to be guided unawares 
by a college professor with the attri- 
butes of Elaine. She was born wise. 
She was also born, thank the propitious 
stars, with a sense of humor." 

Looking back to the turbulent phase 
of their marriage, what was it that' 
caused all the excitement? A girl loved 
a man and said so. That amazed the 
Hollywood natives. It also amazed the 
man John Barrymore for a while. 

"When we got on a train," John said 
"the representatives of the press would 
come up and ask questions. I was al- 
ays in a sweat. You must understand 
at through all these vicissitudes, I had 
come a little — ah — gun shy, I believe, 
the word. I was always wondering 
hat the devil Elaine would find to say 
xt. Gradually, through our associa- 
n, it was borne in on me that I was 
orrying about nothing. Whatever she 
und to say, she said it with a sweet 
plicity and that directness which 
sarms. She was so damned direct that 
flabbergasted people. 
"When at first I attempted to correct 
what I mistakenly considered the error 
of her ways, she'd ask why — she's for- 
ever asking why 

" 'Why?' she'd say. 'It's the truth.' 
" 'You can't always tell the truth.' 
" 'Better than a lie. People know 
you're lying, and hunt for dreadful 
things behind it. If you tell the truth, 
there it is, like it or not, but at least 
there's nothing worse to hunt for.' 

"That gave me to think. I was once 
a member of your lo-athsome profession 

He caused his eyebrows to bristle 
severely at me. "And I knew the tra- 
ditional ways of divas with the news- 
paper boys — their strange subtleties and 

" 'Are you going to marry So-and- 

" 'Don't be ab-suhd. We are mea 
the best of friends.' Meah-ly, JL 
you. As if that weren't the prime 
quisite for marriage. Anyway, she 1 , 
him to the altar that very evening. 

" 'Are you going to divorce So 

" 'The very idea!' " From blase I . 
nette he slipped into simpering bio , 

"'I'm on our way now to our V, 
nest in the woods. Oh, just twenty- 
rooms with a sunken bahth or two- 
don't put that in the paper — all ot 
Hollywood stars have sunken bah ' 
Next day she's in Reno. 


/\S between that and Elaine's dh . 
ness, there is no choice. Reporters 1 f 
a living to make and a job to do i 
you're square with them, I've n 
known them to fail to be square \ 
you. If you're a jackass and give t 
nothing, why, in the name of God, v 
they get back to their typewri 
shouldn't they give their imaginat . 
rein and write what they please? '. . 
tors are so constituted that they y 
pay you for a sheet of blank papei 

"This is the truth. We fell in i| 
There was this and that misunderst; - 
ing, due to this and that unfortue 
circumstance. Now we're togel :. 
I'm happy. I have every reason to 1 e 
Elaine is. I'll do my best to keep r 
so. You see, I've learned direct 
from her. I was born devious, 
knows instinctively what it took e 
years to discover." He flashed a sue i 
grin. "That's why we're contempt 

He hesitated a moment, then ac'i 
quietly, "I've learned other things f i 
her, too — a great deal of fun and re • 
ation and reality and peace." 

With the directness he's learned i 
the charm that's his own, John Bar- 
more had said his say. Having ht.i 
him, you'd know that his reticence I 
prompted by no desire to place hirr I 
on the side of the angels. He sees h - 
self more objectively, gibes at hirr f 
more readily and good-humoredly t i 
most of us. If he lacks some of 
stodgier bourgeois qualities, he is j) 
free of the meaner bourgeois fat;. 
Smugness, hypocrisy, cant are consp; • 
ous by their refreshing absence from 5 

It's the law of life that some oft 
must grow apart. Change hurts, i 
time heals the hurts. Barrymorto 
back in the profession where he ■ 
longs. The girl who became newsps" 
copy because she loved him is now > 
wife. We drew plenty of vicari; 
thrills from their storm-tossed voy: 
The least we can do to preserve I 
balance, now that they're safely ho. 
is to wish them well. 

March Versus Stage 

(Continued from page 23) 

Hyde.' Now don't make me out any 
noble spurner of cash. I appreciate 
money and what it can do for you as 
well as the next, and I was just as eager 
to get my due. But here I was earning 
more thousands than I'd ever hoped to 
earn hundreds, and I was supposed to 
go in and ask for more thousands. I 
couldn't do it with a straight face. So 
I didn't do it. 


/\LL right. When my five-year con- 
tract was up, I wanted to free-lance. 
For several reasons. Primarily, because 
it would give me more freedom as to 
choice of story material. Because you're 
grateful to the movies is no reason, to 
my mind, for ignoring the fact that they 
have their weaknesses — even as you and 

I. Mine's coca cola," he observed pari 
thetically. "What's yours? 

"A player under contract to a stuf 
is an investment, a piece of prope 
I thought the studios sometimes fai 
to handle these investments wis" 
failed to build them up, realize all tr 
possibilities. You go into a big pict 
like 'Jekyll and Hyde,' then yoi 
shunted into some minor affair that i| 
people see. By so much, your va 
depreciates. It's one step forward ij 
two back. I know it's not always 
studio's fault. They don't have enoi 
big pictures. Stories are their cry 
need and always will be. Luckily 
me, I didn't have to solve the stud 
problems. Only my own. 

"I also thought I was making 


iy pictures— too many for the public, 
many for the bank account, too 
iy for my health and morale. Peo- 
get sick of you when they see you 
often — in person or out — and I can't 

I blame them. You can keep more 
yourself by earning less, and with 
time you save you can rest or travel, 
rhat was how I argued. What I did 

to sign another two-year contract, 
ause they made me an offer that I 
ply couldn't afford to turn down. It 

going to mean complete security 
my wife and the two children. That 

worth another two years, I decided, 
n I'd free-lance. 

:hat time I stuck to it. I felt like 
•actice golf ball, with every comer 
ng a whack, but I stuck to it. If 
're in style, offers pour in from all 
s. They call your agent. Your 
it says, 'He wants to free-lance.' 
y say, 'Boloney! Let me talk to him. 
call his bluff.' Your agent says, 
s made up his mind.' They say, 

unmake it for him.' They say, 
,k at Tom and Dick and Harry. Try 
)ok at 'em. You can't even find 'em. 
il Because they free-lanced.' 
Anally they write you letters — in the 
-ldliest spirit. 'I'm telling you this 
your own good, Freddie. At the 

of a year, if you persist in your 
:se, you'll be earning half your pres- 

salary. At the end of two years, 

II be washed up. Keep this letter, 
it away in your safe. It'll save us 

l the pain of a personal I-told-you- 
' He shook his shoulders. "That's 
shuddering," he explained. 
Vhat did you do at the end of the 


e grinned. "Like a noble fellow, I 
ained from gloating and tore the 
is up. 

I'ree-lancing wasn't the worst of it, 
lgh. That was bad enough. But if 

dared hint that you'd like to go 
s to the theater for a while, you 
nped yourself screwy. 
Dne of our best actresses was re- 
rsing for a fine play on Broadway, 
y wanted her here. Her agent said, 
an't get her. She's rehearsing.' 
'Rehearsing for what?' 
A Broadway production.' 
'Nonsense! She doesn't want to do 

'It seems she does. She's been re- 
rsing for three weeks.' 
'Well, what's the cost of the rehears- 
I'll pay her. Get her out here 

'Listen,' said the agent. 'I'll talk 
v and plain. It's not a question of 
; or pay or money. She wants — to 
-a play. See? She wants to do it.' 
'I don't believe it,' said the producer. 
3o the agent hung up. 
[ don't think that could happen to- 
. The industry's growing up. In all 
artments — including publicity, sav- 

your presence. I remember when 
Ae stars were told to keep their 
es and husbands in the dark — it was 
posed to enhance their romantic ap- 
1 or some such poppycock. 

^ND I'll never forget the time 
?n a writer came and asked me in 
seriousness, 'If you and Mrs. March 
■e getting a divorce, would you go 
leno or Paris?' I give you my word, 
ood there with my jaws open and 
Idn't snap 'em shut again. 
;'It's for a symposium,' she said. 
i asking half a dozen players the 
'ie question. Purely theoretical, you 
lerstand. They're all happily mar- 
1- It's just to give our readers an 
j— ' 

By that time I'd got my breath back, 
/e've never lent the matter any 
ught. We're never going to. Give 
i ir readers that idea, will you?' 
Not long after, this writer was mar- 

ried herself. I phoned her. 'If you and 
Mr. So-and-so-were divorcing, would 
you go to Reno or Paris — or Timbuc- 

"She sputtered for a moment, and 
then she caught on. 'O.K., Freddie,' 
she said, T had it coming.' 

"Well, that couldn't happen today, 
either. And yet when you talk about 
going back to the stage, there's still this 
business of curling the lip and giving 
you the wink — let's call it a half curl 
and a quarter wink — since it's not quite 
so incredulous as it used to be." 

He turned to me abruptly. "Do you 
like string beans? My mistake. But 
suppose you did like string beans. That 
wouldn't make it a crime to like cauli- 
flower, too. I happen to like both. Each 
has its points. 

"Having played to millions, I want to 
play to thousands again, or to hundreds, 
or tens. Having gone out in a can, I 
want to go out in the flesh, get the feel 
of the 'theater, that sense of audience 
reaction. I've got no picture commit- 
ments at the moment, we've found a 
play, and I'm free to go. That's all there 
is to it. Simple as that. 

"Another thing. Mrs. March has it 
coming to her. When we came to 
Hollywood, she was an established 
actress, far better known than I was. 
She gave all that up. I'm not painting 
her as a lily-white martyr, or saying 
she made a terrific sacrifice. She 
wanted a home and she wanted the 
children, and out here she could have 
them. Just the same, once the theater's 
in your blood, it's there to stay. Now 
I'm no lily-white martyr, either. Get 
this straight. If Mrs. March weren't in- 
volved, the stage would still have a pull 
for me. With her in the same boat, the 
pull's that much stronger. 

"Don't think we have no misgivings. 
We're bound to have. In fact, if you 
want the truth, we're both scared to 
death. But that's part of the game. If 
you knew in advance what was going 
to happen, you'd miss half the excite- 
ment. It wouldn't be the theater, it 
would be a rest cure. Which is all 
right, if that's what you're looking for. 
Only we're not. 

"We think we have a good play. If 
the public doesn't — " He shrugged. "If 
they pan the daylights out of us, we can 
take it. At least, we'll have tried." 


O Mrs. March went on ahead with 
the children, while her husband finished 
"The Buccaneer." Tony and Penny had 
been to New York before, and were 
wildly excited at the prospect of re- 
turning. So was their cocker spaniel, 

The day I saw them, Coco had come 
in to help with the packing. A dozen 
times little Penelope had to fish him 
out of a trunk drawer where he'd set- 
tled himself in token of his readiness 
to depart. 

Far away in New York, they drew, for 
Daddy's edification, pictures of all they 
see and do — with captions dictated to 
their mother. 

"This is Penny and Tony playing in 
Central Park." "This is Penny and 
Tony waiting for the snow to fall but 
it didn't fall yet. When will it?" "This 
is Penny and Tony in the elevator train. 
They have leashes in the ceiling to hold 
the people." 

And at the end of every letter: "When 
are you coming, Daddy?" 

He was practically on his way the day 
I saw him — to Florence and Penny and 
Tony, three of his loves. 

From the stage, his fourth love, he 
was to know personal satisfaction, even 
though the play proved too steep for 

But, regardless, in Hollywood ready 
to welcome him on his return, waits his 
fifth love, the screen. 

Camera! Powerful, 2000- watt lights are thrown 
on the star's face and teeth. Teeth must sparkle, 
naturally. That is why the choice of the right 
dentifrice is so important in Hollywood. Many of 
the most famous stars use CALOX Tooth Powder. 

Many Hollywood Dentists use 

Calox in their practice. Dentists 
realize that Calox is a safe tooth 
powder made according to latest sci- 
entific findings in the dental field. 


1. Gives "High-Luster" Polish. Five scien- 
tifically approved cleansing and polishing in- 
gredients get to work! Teeth start to sparkle! 

2. Calox is Double Safe Because it is... 

Double Sifted through 100-mesh screens. 
It cannot contain any grit or pumice. 

3. Releases Oxygen. Oxygen is Nature's 
own purifying agent. 

4. Made With Prescription Care by 

McKesson & Robbins, who have supplied 
fine drugs to physicians since 1833. 



JVow t/us new Cream 


does more Jor your s£in 
f/um erer&efore 



my skin looks 

richer," says Miss 

Geraldine Spreckels 

of the famous California family: "I have always praieed Pond's Vanishing Cream. It 
smooths skin so wonderfully after exposure. Now it is grand to know that it is doing more 
for your skin all the time you have it on. It certainly keeps my skin in perfect condition." 

SOMETHING quite remarkable 
has come to women for their 
beauty care. Something unheard of 
only a few years ago! 

The "skin-vitamin" is now in a 
beauty cream! 

Four years ago doctors barely sus- 
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special aid to the skin. They applied 
this vitamin to wounds and burns. 
And found it actually healed them 

This is the amazing "skin-vitamin" 
which is now in Pond's Vanishing 

Pond's Vanishing Cream was always 
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and for overnight use, too. Now the use of 
Pond's "skin-vitamin" Vanishing Cream 
actually nourishes your skin. 

The regular use of this cream will make 
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Remember, this is not the "sunshine" 
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But the vitamin that especially aids skin 
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Same jars, same labels, same price 

This new Pond's "skin-vitamin" Vanishing 
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using it that wav simply adore it! 




Pond's. Dept. 15- VP, Clinton, Conn. Rush special tube of Pond's "skin-vitamin" 
Vanishing Cream, enough for 9 treatments, with samples of 2 other Pond's "skin- 
vitamin" Creams and 5 different shades of Pond's Face Powder. I enclose 10(f to 
cover postage and packing. 

Street — 

Copyright, 1937. Ponds Extract Company 

Boos and Bouquets 

(Continued from page 4) 

equal Irene Dunne, whose loveliness is 
of the kind rarely found in Hollywood 
or elsewhere. Freshness that radiates 
that grand SOH (Sense of Humor) 
which is much better than the much ad- 
vertised SA. 

As a foil, Cary Grant is perfect. May 
we see many pictures with the three of 
you together. 

Eleanor Allan, 
Buffalo, N. Y. 
$1.00 PRIZE 


Bouquets by all means — give them to 
Jane Withers. She's my favorite of all 
the child stars, and, according to her 
box-office rating, I think the general 
public likes her, too. 

She is the Tom Sawyer of yesterday, 
modernized and dressed in skirts today; 
but at heart there's not really a great 
difference between the two of these lov- 
able, laughable naughty children. They 
both represent the all-around 100% 
American child, the kind of healthy ani- 
mal you love to see, the children who, 
despite all their misadventures, turn out 
to be fine citizens. 

To me, Jane Withers is the most hu- 
man of all the child stars. She acts the 
way all kids would if they dared — 
just the way you and I wanted to act 
when we were her age. She calls back 
a happy childhood to adults, and creates 
an exciting one for children. More 
power to her, and more fun for her fans. 
Mrs. Raymond J. Ross, 
Bridgeport, Conn. 

$1.00 PRIZE 


I'd like to nominate a new star for 
Hollywood. His name wasn't mentioned 
in the major credit lines, but certainly 
one of the greatest performances in all 
time should be credited to the special 
effects man who staged the superb se- 
quence in Sam Goldwyn's "Hurricane." 

With his guidance has come one of the 
most spectacular storms in cinema his- 
tory. He has blended all known terror 
and suspense into an unforgettable 
quarter-hour cinema masterpiece. 
Surely the masterful skill and show- 
manship of the special effects man who 
made this scene prove his right to a 
place in moviedom's Hall of Fame. 
I. E. Ward, 
Long Island City, N. Y. 

All credit to "special effects" man 
James Basevi for his twenty-minute 
"blow," which not only stunned the in- 
habitants of the South Sea Islands in 
the "Hurricane," but awed audiences 
everywhere. Mr. Basevi has also made 
earthquakes — as in "San Francisco" ; lo- 
cust plagues — as in "The Good Earth." 
Nice work if you can get it! 

$1.00 PRIZE 


I came to deride — I stayed to admire. 
My opinion of movie magazines was as a 
rose in a mud puddle — there might be a 
trifle worth reading in them but it 
wasn't worth all the mud one had to 
wade through to ge